An Act of Contrition
by OyHumbug
Summary: Although not each other's dates, when Nadine Crowell and Johnny Zacchara run into each other and end up spending the majority of their time together at the reopening party of the Haunted Star, it's only the beginning of their interaction with one another.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: As promised, here is my longer, full length Nohnny fic. Although it appears that I've grossly over-estimated the amount of entertainment the reopening of the Haunted Star is going to offer us, so be it. I needed the event to serve as a platform for the storyline that I have planned. The party was a natural setting for Johnny and Nadine to meet up with each other again, and, as is necessary with all relationships, two people have to spend some time together for attachments to be forged, for their lives to diverge with one another's. And, since this tale will not follow anything else spoiled about the show, it won't matter how AU the events depicted here end up being. Basically, the show has no relevance when it comes to this fic, so just sit back, relax, give me your patience, and I promise... or at least hope... to entertain you. Enjoy!_

Charlynn

**An Act of Contrition**

**Prologue**

**1. **

Parties in Port Charles sucked.

She was two for two, so far, since moving to the small, riverside town, and, while, sure, the reopening of the Haunted Star Casino had not been near as traumatic as the Black and White Ball at Wyndamere, Nadine was determined to stay far, far away from all future parties she was invited to. And it didn't matter what kind of bash was being given. If someone threw Robin a baby shower, she'd send a gift but decline actually attending. If Spinelli surprised himself with a birthday party, she'd beg off actually attending what would surely be the one of a kind festivity and wish her friend well from afar. Hell, she was so determined to avoid all merry revelries that, when she went into work the next morning, she was going to make sure that she had Christmas Eve off just so that she wouldn't have to attend General Hospital's annual Christmas party.

After all, better safe than sorry, right?

It wasn't the most adventurous spirit, she knew that, but a pattern was a pattern. Growing up, her Aunt Rayleen had drilled into her head the old adage _Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me_, but the woman who had raised her never mentioned what happened when a person was fooled three times. Though slightly curious, Nadine didn't want to find out first hand. She'd wait, avoid all Port Charles parties, and observe what occurred to those who didn't immediately discard all invitations that came to them in the mail.

Wandering around the below deck quarters of the gambling yacht, the blonde nurse ran her hands up and down her bare arms. Though spring had officially arrived, there was a decided chill to the night air. The goosebumps she felt breaking out on her delicate, pale skin only reaffirmed her position – she wanted to go home.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Her date, who just so happened to be the one who had driven them to the marina, was nowhere to be found. One minute, Elizabeth had been by her side as they stepped onto the lavishly decorated boat, and, the next thing Nadine knew, her coworker and friend had practically disappeared. No one had seen or heard from her, but her car was still safely parked outside. At first, Elizabeth's desertion had been amusing, a mystery, if you will, and, because she wasn't going to gamble away her hard earned money, she had nothing better to do with her time that evening then try to figure out what happened to her fellow nurse. But, after an hour, the allure of the mystery had faded, and she was left with annoyance that had now, three hours later, turned into worry.

So, apprehensive about her friend, bored out of her mind, and desperate to find a way off of 

the ship and onto dry land again, Nadine went in search of Elizabeth. She figured that, if the petite brunette wasn't gambling, then she must be hiding out somewhere either in an office or the yacht's private quarters. And who was she to begrudge her a little peace and quiet on a night filled with unease and anxiety? To say that the soiree to honor the grand reopening of the Spencer-Zacchara riverboat casino had been tense was quite the understatement, and, knowing of both Elizabeth's history with the Spencer family and sensing her discomfort around the various members of the Zacchara organization, she, too, would have wanted to escape as well.

However, even her sympathy had its limits, and, on top of everything else, her feet were killing her.

It was a common complaint among nurses, their inability to wear real shoes when the situation called for it because their feet were so spoiled and pampered by day in and day out, continuous tennis shoe usage. As she crisscrossed and zigzagged her way up one corridor and down another, looking in each stateroom she came across as she searched for her friend, Nadine couldn't help but wish that she had a pair of her favorite trainers on in that moment. They wouldn't have been stylish, and they certainly would have ruined her entire appearance, but what did she care, really? She had no one to impress, and, even if she did, her choice of footwear still wouldn't matter.

Sighing in frustration, the pretty blonde fell against a lavishly decorated wall, relaxing her body into the ship's structure and allowing it to support her momentarily. Wearily, she lifted one foot at a time, massaging her instep with a single index finger through the open space her stiletto sandals allowed. It wasn't perfect, but, at that point, she'd take any kind of relief she could find, temporary or not, especially since it felt as if she had walked a marathon in the brand new shoes.

And perhaps she had. The Haunted Star was a large vessel, too large for one woman to adequately search on her own in an effort to find another. Nadine had lost track of how many times she had traversed the various passages under deck in hopes of locating Elizabeth, but, as she switched between her left foot and her right, she finally admitted to herself that her exploration was futile. She'd simply have to settle for leaving a message on her coworker's phone, asking her to call her as soon as she got the voice mail so she knew she was alright, and taking a cab home. Besides, not only were her efforts to locate Elizabeth a waste of time, but she also had to be at work the next morning bright and early, ready to file charts, take vitals, and fill out paperwork, and Epiphany would never accept an excuse, no matter how justified it was, for a decrease in efficiency and competency.

But, before she could push off against the wall, before she could wander her way back towards the main staircase, she heard voices coming down the hall towards her – one male and one female. Automatically, she noted the curious combination and wondered if perhaps her fellow nurse had slipped out of the party to enjoy the company of a secret admirer. Elizabeth was so busted, Nadine wanted to laugh, imagining the look upon the brunette's face when she confronted her, but her amusement was short lived. Instead, it was replaced with both a sense of dread, for the other people in the hallway were not Elizabeth and some 

faceless, nameless man, and a sense of remorse for ever confusing her friend with Claudia Zacchara.

She would truly have to do penitence for that mistake.

The mob queen furtively disappeared into a room a few doors down from where the pediatrics nurse was standing, and Nadine was just about to leave the once again otherwise vacant passage when she recognized the man who followed the woman with the penchant for red shoes. It was Doctor Ian Devlin… or Doctor Evil Devil as she personally referred to him.

The man was a snake, a gifted surgeon and physician, but still a snake. As her Aunt Rayleen used to say, a man who speaks with a forked tongue should not kiss balloons, and, in the blonde's book, if a guy couldn't be trusted around an innocent amusement such as a balloon, then she wanted nothing to do with him. That said, she also didn't want him around her friends either, and, though Claudia Zacchara was no friend of hers, far from it, in fact, she had noticed the oncologist lingering around Nikolas.

For several weeks now, she had been wondering just what the Cassadine prince and the gifted if not immoral doctor were hiding from the rest of the world, and, if Dr. Devlin was involved with the mob, then whatever secret he and Nikolas had together could not be good. Despite knowing better, despite realizing just how foolish what she was about to do was, she felt the need to help the dying man whom she had befriended as he grieved for his departed fiancée, and, with that in mind, Nadine crept along the dimly, suddenly eerily, lit hallway until she was standing just outside the doorway that Claudia and Ian had disappeared into just moments before.

"When are you going to start shipping my product, Claudia?"

Although the former plastic surgeon was speaking softly, there was no way one could not pick up on the sinister tones of his voice. He sounded impatient, desperate, treacherous. Gone was the smooth, flirtatious playboy and, in his place, remained a truly dangerous man. The sheer menace her coworker gave off sent chills racing up and down Nadine's sensitive, almost perceptive spine.

"We had a deal," the head of the Zacchara organization returned just as heatedly. "I promised you transportation for your placebo drugs just as soon as you took care of something for me in return."

"I have crates of drugs just waiting to be brought in from Canada," Ian practically hissed at his associate, "and the longer they remain undistributed, the more money I… we lose."

"Well maybe you should have thought about that before you fucked up the hit on Sonny Corinthos. You promised me that he would be taken care of, but, instead, you turned his twelve year old son into a vegetable, and Sonny is still walking around this goddamned town as if he owns it. You get me the results I want, and then and only then will we talk."  


She had heard too much. Stepping away from the entrance to the stateroom, the blue eyed blonde felt dizzy with the knowledge of things she didn't want to face let alone understand. All she had wanted to do was find out what was wrong with her friend; all she had wanted to do was help Nikolas, and, instead, she found out that Doctor Devlin was working for or with, she wasn't quite sure, the Zaccharas, that he imported illegal prescription drugs, that he had been the one to shoot and almost kill little Michael Corinthos, and that, if the sounds coming from behind the closed door were any indication, he was also sleeping with Claudia Zacchara. Her life had just gotten way too complicated. At least, she couldn't imagine it getting any worse at that point.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She had spoken too soon.

Squeaking instead of actually talking, Nadine turned around to find Johnny Zacchara before her… and he did not look happy.

**2.**

He really needed to punch somebody… no, make that fall into a bottle of high proof liquor, the variety really didn't matter at that point, and lose himself for a couple of days. Or, maybe, on second thought, he'd do both… that was if he actually had a choice in the matter. But, instead of relieving his stress, instead of trying to forget that his _partner_ had gotten pass out drunk the night their casino opened, leaving him to handle everything when he was just supposed to be the checkbook, instead of attempting to block out the image of his… whatever Lulu was… hanging all over Logan Hayes, playing the two of them off of each other and, occasionally, just for good measure, using and manipulating Spinelli as well, instead of hiding from his guilt over the Michael Corinthos shooting, instead of dealing with the fact that the younger Lansing, just as slick and just as manipulative as his old man, had gotten his own father out of the mental facility he had been staying at, and instead of worrying about just how deep of a hole his sister had dug for the two of them to climb out of all in his name, all in, as she said, protecting him and his interests, he was freaking babysitting.

"You know, technically, this is kidnapping," the pretty nurse argued as he drug her by the arm down the deserted corridor. They were moving quickly in an attempt to make it out of sight before anyone caught them together, but he was being careful not to hurt her. After all, that was the last thing he needed on his conscious – abusing a woman, especially since that annoying, pesky part of his brain was already bogged down with some very serious remorse. "Now, if you let me go, I promise you I won't press charges. We'll let this little incident just get swept under the wrong, out of sight, out of mind, but…"

Interrupting her, he stated, "you're not a kid."

And he immediately wanted to chuckle at her reaction. Nadine Crowell, as she had so 

nervously introduced herself, or should he say reintroduced herself just in case he had forgotten her from the night of the Black and White Ball – as if forgetting a single moment of that night was possible, stopped still beside him and stood with her brow furrowed, her head tilted to the side, and her perky if not overworked mouth plumped up in a bewildered pout. In essence, she looked thoroughly perplexed. "Was that a joke."

"Maybe."

"Huh," the blonde remarked somewhat unintelligently as if stumped for something else to say, a first since he had stumbled upon her eavesdropping just minutes before. "You know, it's been my observation that you mobular men don't often joke."

"Mobular," he repeated, grinning slightly, but she was too lost in her own mind to notice his amusement.

Paying him no attention, Nadine rattled on, "in fact, I think that's the first time I've heard a funny being uttered by a man of your… occupation."

"A funny?"

Again, there was no reaction to his mocking of her word choices.

"I mean, I'm not even sure if Jason Morgan's face is capable of smiling, and, as for Mr. Corinthos, Sir, granted, the only time I've ever really spent around him was when he was in the hospital with his son, but some people need to joke around when in a bad situation just to keep their mind off the inevitable, but he just either glowered or pouted or cried. There were no light hearted emotions displayed. The guards, too, they are quite somber as well. Now, Spinelli, he laughs, and smiles, and tells amusing tales, but he's not exactly _in the business _if you know what I mean."

Shaking his head for he wasn't sure what else to do in reaction to the nurse's confessions, Johnny pulled her forward once again, gently dragging her along behind him. "Spinelli's not as innocent as he looks. Trust me, he's broken plenty of laws himself." Why he felt it so important to both disparage the nerd in one breath and try to, in a way, make himself look better in her eyes by criticizing the computer genius, he wasn't sure, but he was in no mood to brood over the ways of his own mind.

"Yeah, but he uses his computer as a weapon," she argued. "The rest of you use guns. I'd much rather work on a guy who's been bludgeoned by a laptop than shot. There's far less damage and blood."

Disregarding her astute if not accusing statements, he stopped in front of a closed door. "Here we are."

"And where is here," Nadine asked as he propelled them both inside the dark room.

"My office."

"Oh," the blonde remarked, glancing around and then shrugging her shoulders as if she was satisfied with their accommodations. "I guess this will suffice. Anyway, as I was saying before, you essentially kidnapped me, but, since I'm not a kid, we'll call it adultnapped, okay?"

Turning his back on her, Johnny said, "whatever will get you to shut up for five minutes is alright with me." Rooting around in his personal safe, he withdrew a bottle of vintage bourbon, sighing in relief as soon as his fingers closed around the smooth, cool glass. Without even bothering to look at the nurse, he asked her, "do you want some?"

"No thank you."

Her reply was poised, laconic, and courteous, but he could hear the underlying edge to her voice. Although he could tell that her feelings were hurt, an odd revelation in and of itself seeing as how she hadn't objected or stopped talking while he was essentially taking her captive but only gave him the cold shoulder after he rudely asked her to be quiet, he didn't apologize. "I need to know exactly what you overheard this evening."

"Starting when," the medical professional asked acerbically, the sweet smile she wore on her face doing nothing to alleviate the sharpness from her stance and disposition, "because I listened in on more than just your sister and Doctor Devlin's conversation tonight. I admit that eavesdropping is a nasty habit, but what else is a girl supposed to do when she's stuck on some rattrap riverboat casino with no money to gamble away and her date abandoned her?"

Grinding his teeth together, Johnny closed his eyes in a moment of frustration and lowered himself to sit on the floor. Why, he wasn't sure. After all, there were plenty of chairs and even a couch in the finely appointed study, one that he refused to use but Luke insisted that he have since he was co-owner of the Haunted Star, but, for some reason, the floor looked more appealing. Besides, if he got as drunk as he was planning on getting, he would only end up falling off whatever piece of furniture he sat on anyway. This way, lounging on the floor, just hurried up the unavoidable.

"If you're worried about me telling anyone that you had something to do with little Michael Corinthos' shooting, don't." The words were whispered softly, comfortingly, reassuringly, and they made him open his eyes. What he found surprised him. With her heels kicked off and her knee length dress tucked demurely around her legs, Nadine Crowell, pediatrics nurse, was sitting across from him on the floor, the anger and hurt completely wiped away from her beautiful face only to be replaced by concern.

"Why not?" Swallowing thickly, the brunette expanded upon his previous inquiry. "Why not tell the police or even Spinelli what you overheard?"

"For many reasons," she replied easily. "For one, I don't know exactly how you were 

involved in everything and, frankly, I don't want to know, but I can tell that you're sorry for what happened, that you're beating yourself up for your actions far more than anyone else ever could. I think your sister feels remorse, too. However, Ian does not, and, though I really would like to see him pay for what he's done, it's not my place to orchestrate his punishment. Getting him or anyone else for that matter sent to prison or killed won't bring Michael back. All it will do is put guilt on my hands as well, and I refuse to do that. Enough blood has already been spilled. Besides," she added, nodding her head as if she was trying to convince herself that she was right, "eventually, Doctor Devlin will pay for his crimes. It could be tomorrow, or next week, or even several years from now, but, when he does, I want no part of it. Is it the coward's way out, maybe," Nadine answered her own question, shrugging her delicate, bare shoulders, and she surprised him when she let the topic drop there.

"A part of me wishes that you would say something to someone." Unscrewing the lid of the bourbon, Johnny forwent a glass and simply drank from the bottle. "Sometimes I'm so bogged down by guilt that I feel as if I can't breathe." She remained silent as he took gulp after gulp of the burning liquid, its fire doing nothing to expunge the shame he felt. "And, if you want to talk about cowards, I'm the coward here. I should just go to Jason Morgan and tell him everything. He's listened to me in the past, you know," he confessed, not pausing in his admission long enough to give the nurse a chance to respond.

"He's given me the benefit of the doubt, helped keep me alive when Sonny's wanted to kill me, and, hell, maybe he'd listen to me again now; maybe he'd realize that I just wanted Corinthos dead for what he did to me and my sister. I mean, the man kidnapped me." Glancing up at the woman before him, he smirked and amended, "he adultnapped me, he slept with Claudia and then belittled her every chance he got, effectively treating her like a whore, and, after the cannery exploded, he left her bleeding and hurt, not caring if she lived or died. So excuse the fuck out of me if I wanted some revenge. It's what we do in this business," he explained, his eyes already starting to feel glassy, but whether that was from the alcohol or unshed tears, he wasn't sure. "If someone comes after you, you return the favor and make sure that you succeed where the other person failed. It's life or death."

"Kill or be killed," the blonde added, evidently following his stream of conscious rambling.

"But I can't do it," he declared miserably. "I can't go to Morgan and tell him that it was because of my hatred for Sonny that Claudia went and made a deal with Moreau to kill Sonny, that it was because of my hatred for his business partner that the little boy he raised for the first year of his life like his own son is now permanently comatose." Taking another long, scalding gulp of the bourbon, he paused until the liquid had settled firmly, hollowly in his stomach before continuing. "And that's why I'm the coward, Nadine Crowell. You're… you're just too good, too pure, too moral for my world. In fact, I don't even care what else you overheard tonight. Keep it to yourself; tell the world. Whatever you decide…"

"What was that," the medical professional demanded to know as loud pops could be heard ringing about overhead of them.

"Gunshots."

He watched in part amusement and part terror as she scrambled to her feet, but, before she got to the door, he reached out and latched onto her naked calf. Instantly, a jolt of awareness coursed its way through Johnny's body, making him glance up to meet the 

beautiful nurse's gaze. But he dismissed the sensation, the responsiveness, because he had a… well, he had a Lulu. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To help," Nadine replied immediately, gesturing towards the awaiting passage outside of his office. "Someone's been shot. I'm a nurse. It's what I do; I help people who are hurt."

"There's nothing to help."

"Wait, what do you mean," she queried, backing up and then sliding back down so that she was, once again, seated across from him. "What's going on up there, Mr. Zacchara?"

"Please," he entreated her playfully, grinning flirtatiously before taking another drink from his rapidly emptying bottle of liquor. "I adultnapped you. The least you could do in return is call my Johnny."

"You're drunk."

"And you could be, too, if you just would have taken me up on my offer to share. Trust me," he assured her. "Bourbon makes everything better."

"Including the fact that someone was just gunned down in your casino the very first night it opened?"

"It's Port Charles," the brunette replied casually, rolling his eyes. "And one of the owners, as you so memorably put it, is in the mobular industry. What else did you expect to happen here tonight?"

Nadine crossed her arms over her chest, mumbling so softly to herself that he couldn't hear her response. However, he did have to admit that she looked pretty cute when she was irritated… not that he really noticed seeing as how… yeah.

"If you want to know what happened," he finally started his explanation. "I'll tell you. Two days ago, Ric Lansing, my attorney Trevor's son, got my father released from his mental hospital and had all the charges dropped against him due to the fact that, since my father was apparently suffering from schizophrenia at the time of the Black and White Ball, he could not held accountable for his actions, and, now, medicine has his symptoms under control, so he's allowed to roam free again. I'm not quite sure what the terms were of their agreement, but Ric Lansing would not help my father if there wasn't something in it for him as well. My guess is that it was an 'I scratch your back; you scratch mine' kind of deal, meaning that those gun shots you just heard were fired from my father's gun as he shot and killed, because Anthony Zacchara rarely misses, Trevor Lansing, the man who has served as his attorney for more than twenty years. The only good news is that my father will now be headed back to the mental hospital."

"Wow."

"I know."

"That's pretty Shakespearian, when you think about it, sick but still Shakespearian" Nadine murmured, eyes wide with what could only be described as shock as they darted anxiously around the small, dark room the two of them were sitting in.

Saluting the medical professional with his bottle of bourbon, he stated, "an astute conclusion, Nurse Crowell."

They sat in silence for several minutes, the only noises breaking the stillness of his office coming from the casino above them. But it wasn't necessarily an uncomfortable quiet. While he continued to drink, she sat in calm introspection, biting the inside of her cheek the entire time. When he couldn't stand the haunting nature of his own thoughts any longer, Johnny spoke up, "are you sure I can't offer you something to drink. There's still at least a third left in the bottle, plenty to get someone as small as you quite drunk."

"I'm sure."

"Suit yourself," he commented softly, tipping the cut glass decanter's contents into his mouth yet again.

"May I ask you a question, though?" He nodded his approval. "How long are you going to keep me here, because I have to be at work pretty early tomorrow morning?"

"Oh, you're free to go whenever you want, but, if you want some unsolicited advice, I'd wait a little while, at least until the other guests and the police clear out, just to avoid the hassle of answering a bunch of questions."

"Will do," she agreed, angling her head in a soundless gesture of thanks for the recommendation. "And you?"

"Oh, I think I'll just take a little nap," the brunette answered, already in the process of curling up into a little ball on the carpeted floor of his office. Sighing loudly, contentedly, for the alcohol had finally done its job of thoroughly numbing him, he whispered kindly, "thanks for listening," right before falling asleep.

He was snoring even before Nadine had a chance to respond, but, if he had still been awake, he would have heard her tenderly say, "anytime, Johnny."

**3.**

The sun was just cresting over the horizon when he braved to open one eye in an effort to test and gauge his surroundings. His head was pounding, his stomach was revolting, and his back felt like he had slept on a floor. Sitting up and giving himself a slight shake to clear the cobwebs, Johnny realized that was because he had been sleeping on the floor. An empty bottle of bourbon tilted over onto its side proved to be the only explanation he needed in order to understand just how he had ended up sleeping in his office at the Haunted Star. Although the details from the night before were slightly fuzzy, he recalled enough to know that the day he was about to face would be no better the one he had just survived, but that seemed to be a common occurrence in his life.

Pushing himself up onto all fours and slowly regaining his feet, he found his body swaying slightly with the natural rocking of the yacht before finding equilibrium. What he needed was some strong coffee, an entire bottle of aspirin, give or take a few tablets of the pain reliever, and his bed back at Crimson Point, but, unfortunately, he was in no shape or form to acquire those three things for himself at that particular moment. Knowing he couldn't drive home, he rooted around his desk for a phone, knocking it over before he actually located it. Righting the alarmingly loud device as the dial tone blared out into his personal 

study, he made quick work of calling for information and then demanding a number for the local cab company.

After securing himself a ride home, he began the trek back up to the dock, starting immediately despite the fact that the cab wouldn't be there for fifteen minutes. Johnny figured, though, that he would need at least that much time if not more to manage the stairs that led upstairs to the casino and then the deck of the ship. Blindly, he passed by the taped off areas of the yacht, ignoring he blinding yellow of the police tape as it corded off the crime scene his casino had become the night before. That – among many other things – was something he would deal with later, maybe even tomorrow.

The ride back to Crimson Point was both endless and, in the same breath, swift. In the same vein, he was neither asleep nor fully awake during the journey, instead, dangling somewhere between a conscious state and the haze a hangover provided him with. But he didn't fight the odd condition he was in. Rather, he embraced it, appreciating the fact that it allowed him to forget and disregard.

It wasn't until he stepped foot in his own home that awareness started to creep its way back into him. He moved soundlessly, not wanting to alert either his sister or any of the staff members of his return. It would serve his purposes well if they all believed he had not come home, thus allowing him to hide in his private quarters all day long, but, as he passed in front of Claudia's office, the door slightly cracked whether on purpose or on accident, he wasn't sure, Johnny knew immediately that there would be no rest, no recuperation on his part that day.

"I want her taken out before the end of the day."

"Oh, please, Ian," his sister disregarded, apparently opposing the doctor's opinion. "Like some little mouse of a nurse will really pose any threat to what we have planned. You're pathetic and starting to make me wonder if I should even do business with you after all."

"Well, take this for pathetic," the oncologist countered. "If you don't do this for me, I'll go to Corinthos myself and tell him that you were the one who ordered the hit on his life, that you were the one who shot his son. As far as Corinthos is concerned, I'm just some doctor who helped work to save his kid's life. He's always hated you. In fact, he's probably looking for a reason to take you out. So, do this for me, Claudia. Kill Nadine Crowell or else."

"How do you even know…"

"I saw her," he snapped, and Johnny had to fight the urge he had to enter the office and protect his sister, but he did. If nothing else was becoming apparent about his older sibling, he was starting to see that she was quite capable of taking care of herself; she didn't need him to fight her battles for her, especially when it appeared as if he had more important issues to deal with, a more innocent woman to protect. "She was right outside that door last night, listening in on everything we said to each other. She knows that we're partners, she knows that I'm importing illegal, placebo pharmaceuticals, and she knows that we're the ones who are responsible for Michael Corinthos getting shot."

"Fine," Claudia agreed, sounding bored with the whole situation. "I'll do it. I'll send someone after the little fool…"

He didn't wait around to hear anything else. Suddenly sober, more sober than he had ever 

felt before in his entire life, Johnny could see things clearly. He could see who his sister really was. She wasn't some misunderstood, abused little girl anymore who only wanted to look after him; she was an angry, bitter, cold hearted woman who would do anything within her grasp to retain her power. While he knew that their business was not a pretty one, that it was dark and gritty and unforgiving, there were some lines he was not prepared to cross, and killing an innocent woman was one of them.

Grabbing a set of keys off the table in the entryway and not particularly caring about which car they belonged to, Johnny slipped out of his own house as quietly as he had arrived just moments before. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to make sure that Nadine survived his family, no matter what his actions cost him personally.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: If there are any questions about formatting, let me know. This story jumps back and forth in time, but, because there are so many flashbacks and they're so long, I didn't italicize them. This can be changed easily if it's confusing. Thanks and enjoy!_

Charlynn

**Chapter One**

**1.**

_Seven Months Later…_

Dying sucked.

That was the one truth in life that couldn't be sugarcoated… though people certainly tried. Her parents did. They attempted to give her false hope, claiming that there was still a chance, that there was still a miracle out there with her name on it, but Abby knew better. She had stage four alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma, a type of cancer most adults hadn't even heard of, let alone could they spell it. The doctors had caught it late, it had spread, and the chemo, radiation, and resection surgeries had all proven futile. But, still, everyone around her unremittingly tried to boost her confidence.

The doctors and nurses always busied themselves around her, as if their diligence could prove to be her saving grace. Shrinks stopped by to see her all the time, attempting to prepare her for death and urge her to fight all in the same breath. But how did a fifteen year old accept the fact that her life was over? How was she supposed to embrace the idea that, after never really experiencing the important joys of life, she was going to die?

She'd never drive a car. She wouldn't graduate from high school, go to college, or get a job. She'd never get to do those irresponsible things all teenagers did like get drunk while they were underage or sneak out of the house. She'd never get to have children of her own, and she'd never get to become a functioning member of society. But, most of all, she'd never get to fall in love. She'd never have sex, get married, or, hell, even get divorced as was the current trend. The most exciting thing that had ever happened to her, thus far, was getting to go to the Galapagos Islands with her family, and she only got to do that because _The Make a Wish _foundation had paid for it… because she was dying.

But the encouragement didn't stop there. There were also the religious officials who stopped by to see her, who offered to pray for or with her, but she always turned them down. They all seemed to think that telling her she was 'going to a better place' was comforting, but all she wanted to do was scream that she was quite satisfied with her current location, , thank you very much, and that she really didn't want to go anywhere else. For Abby, their words of reassurance and comfort were empty, so much so, in fact, that she questioned the very fundamental ideas that religion was based upon. After all, no one seemed to be able to answer the questions that really mattered to her.

She wanted to know WHY she had to get cancer, and, even if the disease was inevitable, WHY the doctors couldn't have found it earlier when she still would have had a fighting chance to survive. She wanted to know what her parents were supposed to do after she eventually kicked the bucket. She was their only child, and, despite their efforts to appear otherwise, she could see that they were both falling apart, that they were pushing each other away, constantly fighting, and on a one way express highway barreling rapidly towards separation. Once she was gone, who would they have left? They were both too old 

to consider having another child, not that they would ever be advised to replace one kid with another, and neither of them had support systems. Her grandparents were dead, and the few aunts and uncles that were still around were spread so far away, that her family had lost contact with them years ago.

And then there were the selfish questions, too. She wanted to know what it was like for a girl to go to her senior prom. What did an orgasm feel like, and, on the other hand, what about a broken heart? Hell, there was even that curiosity about her favorite television shows. Just how exactly were they going to turn out? With some of them, she had watched for years, waiting for, hoping for, yelling at the TV for certain things to happen, but she'd never find out if her favorite couple ever reunited or what the big secret was concerning the new mysterious new neighbors.

It was frustrating, and her frustration made her angry. Day in and day out, she remained in her private hospital room. Sometimes she'd read, sometimes she'd listen to music, but, most of the time, she just sat and stared, waiting for the inevitable to happen – for all her major organs to shut down and for her body to go into cardiac arrest and renal failure and all those other two word scary medical terms that always meant impending death. She wanted to go home, to die amongst her own things, but the doctors followed her parents' wishes, and her Mom and Dad still blindly hoped for their daughter to receive a second chance.

She had long since told her friends goodbye, requesting that they stop coming to visit. If she wasn't going to survive the cancer, she wanted them to remember her as she used to be and not as some sick, wasting away hospital patient. Though selfish, Abby felt as if she had a right to such behavior, and, after a while, her friends stopped trying to see her, and she was slightly comforted in knowing that they had moved on.

In fact, at that point, there was only one person she enjoyed actually seeing. A nurse, though one assigned to a different floor than intensive care, Nadine Crowell had just happened by her room one day. The blonde had pretended to stumble into the cancer patient's room by accident, but the fifteen year old knew better. She had heard stories of the kind hearted pediatrics nurse who visited with all the terminal patients during her own free time, so she had been waiting for the medical professional to arrive so that she could promptly dismiss her. She didn't want anyone's pity, and she was certainly not some charity case for a busybody nurse.

However, Nadine had surprised her. She ignored Abby's bald head, she never brought up the cancer or gave her advice, and, unlike everyone else, she treated her like a normal, adolescent girl. They would gossip and giggle together for hours. She would allow Abby to braid her hair, and, in return, she would paint the younger woman's toenails for her. The blonde taught her how to knit, and she taught Nadine how to play video games. For the dying teenager, she could be friends with the nurse but, at the same time, not feel guilty about leaving her or disappointing her, because their connection was one born after she had been diagnosed not before. And the best thing about Nadine was that she always answered her questions as honestly and as candidly as she could. It was a refreshing change of pace.  


Lately, her friend had been working the ten to six shift, and, on her way home every evening, she'd stop by Abby's room to see her. But it was almost eight o'clock, and she was starting to worry, because there had been no word from Nadine. She didn't know much about the nurse's personal life, for, oddly enough, that was the one thing the blonde wouldn't ramble on and on about, but she knew that she had to have some kind of family. After all, everyone does, and, if there was anybody in the world who deserved a good home life to return to every evening, in Abby's opinion, that person was Nadine.

She was just about to have the nurse paged when her hospital room door was pushed open to reveal the softly smiling blonde. "Hey, sorry I'm late."

Pushing herself up slightly in bed, the fifteen year old eagerly asked, "are you okay? Nothing happened with…"

"I'm fine," her friend reassured her. "The girl who was supposed to come in and relieve me from my shift called off at the last minute. It was something to do with her car not starting, supposedly, but I know that she just got a brand new car, so my guess is that she wanted to go shopping or to a holiday party. But, anyway, I had to work over until a replacement could get here."

"That blows."

"Eh," Nadine waved off the issue. "I'll take the extra money. And, besides, I got to put some of the babies to sleep. Do you know how long it's been since I've got to do that?" She sighed wistfully just at the mere thought of the infants and toddler she took care of on a daily basis. "I'm pretty sure that the most beautiful sight in the whole world is a sleeping baby."

"And I'm pretty sure that you've been huffing too much baby powder lately," Abby teased her, wrinkling her nose. While she regretted the idea of never being a mother, the actuality of children always gave her the creeps. She hated their constant neediness, their snotty noses, and their piercing wails of complaint. She had tried to earn money just once as a babysitter before hanging up that cap permanently the year before, and, sometimes, she found herself in awe of her older friend for the sheer fact that Nadine actually liked and appreciated children.

"Nope, baby powder is not my drug of choice. However, I am quite partial to the smell of their shampoo."

The teenager laughed. "I swear, you're on crack."

"Well, let's hope not." The two shared a conspiratorial grin before Nadine pressed on. "Listen, I hate to cut this short, but visiting hours are going to be over soon, and I certainly don't need Epiphany on my case."

Abby's eyes got wide at the mere mention of the formidable Nurse Johnson. "Is she always so… Does she always have a bug up her ass?"

This time it was the medical professional's turn to snicker. "I wouldn't let her hear you say that, but, yeah, in a way, I guess she does, but that's just Epiphany. Yes, she's scary, and, yes, she can make a grown woman break down in tears when she yells, but, after you get used to her high standards and authoritarian ways, you come to appreciate her. There's nobody more efficient, more professional, or more knowledgeable when it comes to nursing than Epiphany Johnson."

"But you're still scared of her?"

"Oh, definitely," Nadine admitted, shaking her head profusely. "I'd be crazy not to be. Anyway," she changed the topic, moving closer to the hospital bed to enfold the fifteen year old's right hand in both of her own. "I'll try to get here earlier tomorrow. I just started a new blanket, so I'm going to need your help to get it finished by Christmas. It's a present for a friend."

Abby was just about to say goodbye when she noticed the necklace hanging around the nurse's neck. It was a simple gold chain but looped around it was large emerald ring. She was immediately intrigued. Normally, the older woman wore nothing but her scrubs around the hospital, but, because she was on her way home when she stopped by her hospital room that night, she had already changed back into her street clothes. It was the first time the teen had seen her friend's normal, everyday appearance, so it was the first opportunity she had to notice the piece of jewelry so obviously important to her.

Surprising even herself with her forwardness, the cancer patient lifted her free hand up to delicately finger the ring. "What's this?"

Blushing, the nurse denied, "oh, that. It's nothing."

"Well, it sure as hell looks like something."

"You know, for a kid, you have a particularly crude mouth."

"It's part of my charm," Abby retorted impertinently, earning herself a playful glare from her friend. "Plus, I'm already dying, so what else do I have to lose at this point. Might as well have some fun while I can, right? And, speaking of fun," she continued without giving Nadine a chance to speak. "I know there's a story behind this ring."

"Isn't there always?"

"So, tell me about it."

"I can't," the pediatrics nurse protested. "It's late, I really need to be getting home, and you're probably tired."  


"Yeah right," the fifteen year old argued. "While I might be bored out of my mind, I'm anything but tired. All I have to do all day long is sleep and think, think and sleep. I'd worship the very ground you walk on if you could manage to entertain me for a few minutes."

"Well," Nadine hedged, "I've always enjoyed the idea of people bowing down to me."

"Who hasn't?"

"And the story behind this ring is certainly a doozy."

"Who the hell even uses that word anymore?"

"In fact, it could probably keep you occupied for at least a couple of hours every night for a month."

"Aw, damn it," Abby joked good-naturedly. "There aren't hobbits and talking tress in this tale, too, is there, because, let me tell you, I slept through all three of those long ass movies."

The medical professional looked towards the patient with confusion marring her otherwise smooth brow. "What's a hobbit?"

"Oh good," the teen clapped her hands together expectantly. "You may proceed then."

"Wait a minute! I never agreed to tell you the story!"

"Nadine," she teasingly chided the older woman. "Did you actually think I was going to allow you to get away with not telling it to me?" Her friend glowered in her direction, realizing the answer to Abby's query. "Now, pull over a chair already. You've been on your feet enough today as it is."

The nurse did as she was told, and, by the time she was settled in for a lengthy discussion, the terminal patient had burrowed under her covers, rolled onto her side, and laid waiting for her friend to begin her tale. "Well, I guess if I'm going to tell this story the right way, I'm going to have to go all the way back to the point where I was kidnapped… for the second time by the same man."

"Oh, sounds juicy," Abby verbally applauded. "When does the sex come?"

Nadine laughed. "Just shut up and listen."

**2.**

She was pretty sure, when she had gone to bed the night before, she hadn't been drunk, so it made no sense to Nadine why, at five-thirty that morning, she was being roused from a 

very pleasant, very deep sleep by an incessant pounding in her head. After all, as a nurse, she knew that she couldn't become inebriated simply by sitting across from someone who made their way quite rapidly through almost an entire bottle of bourbon. Unlike pot, one could not be clam baked with alcohol. But that still left her quite puzzled. It made no sense for her to be suffering from a hangover.

Slowly, though, confusion bled into awareness, and, then, awareness was followed by frustration when she realized the pounding wasn't inside her head but outside her front door. Someone was knocking for entrance, and, frankly, whoever it was, she had half a mind to ignore. But she was curious, so she got up. It wasn't so much that she wanted to know what the person in the hallway wanted. In fact, she was quite positive that she was going to dismiss them as quickly as possible and head back to bed for an hour before being forced to wake up and get ready for another day at the hospital, but she did want to know who felt they had a right to disturb her beauty rest… simply so that she could yell at them.

Her coworkers and friendly acquaintances around the work place didn't know where she lived. In fact, Spinelli was the only person in Port Charles that she had invited over to her apartment. After all, they were friends, and friends sometimes spent time together, and, even though her schedule and Spinelli's didn't mesh together very well, they had managed to have dinner a couple of times. But she highly doubted it was the computer genius pounding on her door so early in the morning. Spinelli was never up before dawn unless he hadn't managed to go to bed yet, so that left her with three options: 1.) the police were outside her apartment wanting her to answer questions about the shooting at the Haunted Star the night before 2.) one of her neighbors had an emergency and needed her help 3.) some stupid punk was randomly drunk knocking on her door in the form of a prank.

Why did she always have to have such bad odds?

Swinging her front door open, she demanded to know, "what do you…," but the words almost immediately dried up on her lips, leaving her sputtering and gaping at the man before her.

He looked rough, both hung over and upset, but, then again, he had every right to look that way, especially after the night he had just experienced. Her sympathy for him was short lived, though, as she remembered that he was the one who had interrupted her sleep, that he was the one who had barged into her life at five-thirty in the morning, and that he was the one who had pushed his way into her apartment without waiting for an invitation. But then he opened his mouth, and her irritation turned to silent fury.

"Get dressed. We're leaving in ten minutes."

Placing her small hands on her pajama clad hips, she questioned. "Did you drive over here?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting us both out of here safe and, more importantly, still alive."

"Mr. Zacchara, you really shouldn't be behind the wheel of a car right now, not after how much alcohol you drank last night. You're probably still hung over, and, though it really makes no difference to me how you choose to self-destruct, there are innocents on the road out there who do not deserve you crashing into them. And, from a personal prospective, I really am in no mood to be booked solid into the OR today repairing damage your selfish behavior caused. Furthermore, what about the police? I'm sure they'd love to drag you into custody on a DUI charge. Look, I'm going to call you a cab, and, when it gets here, you're going to leave, okay?"

"Are you done yet," he questioned her, sounding both annoyed and slightly amused at the same time, "because we're down to eight minutes now."

"Eight minutes for what?"

"You haven't been listening to a word I've said since I got here, have you?" Growling under his breath, the young man exclaimed, "never mind." Striding across the room easily, he grasped the blonde nurse by the shoulders and directed her towards the back of her apartment. "I don't care what I have to do, you're going to do as I tell you. While I pack you a small bag, you're going to get dressed, and, when we're both done, we're getting as far away from Port Charles as we can."

"I'm not going anywhere… well, besides to work in an hour and half, and you need to go home and sleep off your hangover. You're so drunk, you're practically delusional."

"I'm as sober as you are and far more lucid," Johnny contradicted her. "As for whether or not you're coming with me, I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter."

"I do, too!" Digging her bare heels into the carpet, she tried to fight back, but the Zacchara heir was too strong, and he easily overpowered her. "And I say that I'm not going."

"Are, too."

"Am not!"

"Are,…" With one last push, he positioned her in front of her closet, "too. Just shut up and do what you're told, Nadine. Things will go a lot smoother if you just follow my instructions."

"Why should I?"

"Because if you don't," he replied honestly, meeting her gaze with his own hard, piercing stare, "you'll get us both killed." As she visibly swallowed, the brunette softened his voice and calmly instructed, "we're down to about six minutes now. The more time we spend here, the less likely we'll make it out of this apartment alive. I need you to get dressed. Can you do that for me?" The pediatrics nurse went to answer but found that she had a sizeable lump in her throat, so, instead, she simply nodded. "Good," Johnny encouraged her. "Wear 

something comfortable but, at the same time, something that won't draw attention to who you are, so no scrubs, no college sweatshirts, nothing that references this shithole of a town."

"O…Okay," she agreed shakily. But when he stayed in her bedroom with her, turning towards her dresser to pull out clothes and toss them into a plastic garbage bag, she found herself frozen in place. "Uh, what are you doing? I can't change with you in the room."

"Well, you better get over your modesty quickly, because you and I are about to get a whole hell of a lot closer than this."

"Excuse me," the nurse asked, her eyes growing wide with panic.

"I didn't mean it like that," Johnny sighed, pausing in his actions to turn around and face her. "Have you ever been on the road with someone before?" When she shook her head no, he continued. "A car gets awfully crowded quickly, showers become luxuries not necessities, and your companion becomes your only constant, your only way of determining whether or not you're still alive. You're going to have to trust me, Nadine, just as I'm trusting you to listen to me and do as I say. Now, please," he urged her, "we really need to get going. Get dressed, and I promise I won't look at you, alright?"

Perhaps finally sensing the note of urgency to his voice, she agreed without comment, stripping off her pajamas and rapidly throwing on a pair of well-worn, faded jeans and a simple, white t-shirt. She didn't bother with her usual routine of washing her face, and she skipped the usual light makeup she had worn every day since she had turned thirteen and her Aunt Rayleen had allowed her to use such beauty products. Instead, she settled for brushing her teeth, leaving the toothbrush behind as Johnny had instructed her, and, four minutes later, she went back out into her living room to find the brunette waiting with a sack of clothes, a thermos of coffee, and a couple boxes of cereal. Everything else in her apartment looked normal; if someone were to break in, they'd think that she simply wasn't home, not that she had gone on the run with a future mob kingpin. It was surreal.

Out in the hallway, he told her, "lock the door. Even though they'll get in anyway, at least it'll look like you weren't expecting them."

Silently, she obeyed.

They were on the stairs, quickly moving from the third floor down to the main level when he suddenly asked her, "do you speak any foreign languages?"

Despite the situation, Nadine animatedly piped up, "I can sing a song about a rat in an attic in French. Do you want me to sing it for you? Even though the English translation is pretty boring, it's catchy in its native language." Preparing herself, she cleared her throat. "Il y un rat…"

"Forget it," Johnny interrupted. "I'm sorry I asked."  


And that's when she stopped talking.

**3.**

She could feel him waking up beside her, but, still, she didn't move. After doing everything Johnny Zacchara had told her to do – including drive a stolen car, she was not going to take one more direction from him unless he gave her some answers, starting with _why _their lives were in danger in the first place. Looking straight ahead at the never ending highway before them, Nadine kept her hands on the steering wheel, positioning them exactly at ten o'clock and two o'clock just as she had been taught years ago.

"Why did we stop?"

His voice was groggy, almost drugged sounding, and, secretly, she had to admit that she relished the fact that, ostensibly, her adultnapper for the second time in two days was just as uncomfortable physically as she was mentally. "Because I'm not driving another mile until you tell me just what the hell is going on around here!" Even to her own ears, she sounded paranoid and on edge. "You said get dressed, and I did. You said, here, we'll take this car, and I climbed into the driver's side despite knowing I was committing a federal offense. You said drive southwest, and what did I do? Yep, that's right. I did exactly what you told me to. But no more! This car does not move until you tell my exactly why I'm running away from everything I have in Port Charles with you."

He snorted derisively. "Yeah, because a gig at the hospital as a nurse and a lonely, one bedroom apart is so much to leave behind."

His words stung her, picked at wounds barely healed over, she couldn't deny the fact, but she wasn't going to let him see just how much. "No matter what you may think of me or my life, they're still mine, and you, Mr. 'I Kill People for a Living' have absolutely no room to judge."

"You're right. I don't."

His concurrence flabbergasted her, confused her, but she brushed it aside seeing as how there were more important issues to deal with. "Now, enough small talk. Why did we leave Port Charles like there was someone after us?"

"I'm not doing this now, Nadine."

"Yes, you are," the nurse contradicted, letting go of the steering wheel long enough to pound her fists into the airbag. "I deserve to know what's going on with my own life."

"Listen, I'll tell you everything you want to know later, but not now. We're still in New York for Christ's sake. Plus, I'm exhausted, and I feel like shit, so could please just do this one last thing for me and drive like I asked you to?"

"No."

"Fuck," he swore. Before she knew what was happening, he had reached behind him and pulled out a semi-automatic handgun, positioning its barrel directly on her right temple. "I didn't want to do it this way, but you left me no choice. You will do whatever the hell I tell you, no matter how crazy my instructions sound or how much you want to do something else, and, if you don't, I will shoot you. Do you understand me?"

She nodded, just once, to show compliance. "Great," he remarked caustically with a sigh. "Now, put the damn car in gear and drive until I tell you to stop."

They were back on the road in less than five seconds, gravel flying out from beneath the stolen car's tires as it fishtailed off the dirt shoulder and back onto the pavement. Silence descended upon them. Still, though, Nadine never risked a glance at the angry mobster beside her. Eventually, his harsh breathing began to regulate itself back into a normal rhythm, and she could tell that he was falling asleep once again. Just before he dosed off, the brunette remarked, "you know, you drive like a girl," referencing her inflexible hand positions.

She refused to speak to him, instead, waiting for him to fall asleep, all the while concocting a little plan of her own. If Johnny Zacchara wanted to fight dirty, she'd be more than happy to oblige him. After all, as her Aunt Rayleen used to tell her when she was growing up, anger is a stone cast into a wasps' nest, and she was perfectly capable of stinging back.

**4.**

"Oh, this is just rich," Abby exclaimed happily, wide awake and hanging onto every last word that her friend uttered, "bat shit crazy but rich nonetheless. I can't believe that the guy who gave you such a kickass ring pulled a gun on you. That's… deranged but also slightly hot. Yeah, definitely hot," she amended after a moment's thought, grinning crookedly.

"Hey, I never said Johnny was the one who gave me this ring. You're jumping ahead in the story."

"Sue me for being perceptive. I'm sure you could find a much better use for my life insurance than my parents ever will. But I can't help it; this is the most fun I've had in a hell of a long time."

"And quit swearing, too," the nurse reprimanded her sternly.

With a slightly raised voice, the fifteen year old questioned, "what? Why? You were swearing while you were telling the story."

"I was just repeating what Johnny said to me. Those weren't actually my own words."

"Still counts," Abby argued. Smirking, she teased, "see, I'm already corrupting you. My 

mission here is almost complete."

"Not quite," the medical professional disputed. "You're still ten times more degraded than I am."

"Thank you."

Nadine rolled her eyes. "That wasn't a compliment."

"Oh, just get back to the story already. I want to hear it all," the terminal cancer patient insisted, "every tense, sexually charged, awkward moment, and you better not disappoint."

"Alright, but just a little more," her friend relented. "I'll tell you what happens next, but then I really have to be getting home, and you need to get to sleep."

"I'll have plenty of time to sleep when I'm six feet under." Waving towards the nurse, she smartly ordered, "dance for me, monkey, dance!"

Nadine huffed, and she mumbled nearly silent complaints under her breath, but, nevertheless, she started the tale back up again, much to Abby's approval.

**5.**

It wasn't twenty minutes later that Nadine was waking up her captor once again, except, the second time, she didn't rouse him slowly as his body adjusted to the unmoving car. Instead, after tossing the gears into park, the engine still briskly running under the hood, she held the gun she had purloined from the sleeping man on him, digging the weapon sharply into his side, as she demanded he do as she said. "Get up, Johnny."

Although his eyes didn't open, he was very much aware of the fact that they weren't on the road anymore, and, immediately, he lost his coal. "Jesus Christ! I thought I told you to keep driving until I said you could stop."

"I didn't feel like following your commands any longer."

"Well, that's just too damn bad," the brunette remarked, reaching for the gun he had left sitting on his lap, but, when he discovered that it wasn't there, when he realized that the power had suddenly switched and that he no longer was in possession of it, he became wide awake, swiveling in his passenger seat to face the nurse. "So, I see you've turned the tables on me."

She ticked her head to the side, smirking at him. "It appears so, now, doesn't it?"

But he ignored her question. Rather than answering her, he posed one of his own, his inquiry catching the medical professional off guard. "Would you use it?"

Inanely, she replied. "Huh?"  


"The gun," Johnny repeated, nodding his chin towards the revolver she had planted firmly in his side. "Would you shoot me, or, to be more precise, could you really shoot someone? You made your position on weapons and violence quite clear last night, and, though I'm not saying that you're right and I'm wrong or that my stance is right and yours is wrong, I do need to know whether or not you would be able to fire a gun at someone."

She pulled the weapon away from him. Holding it flat in both of her outstretched palms, she regarded the semi-automatic contemplatively. Finally, Nadine admitted, "I'm not sure. I've never really thought about it before."

"Well, then, think about it now, because I need to know."

"Yes," she answered just seconds later, but, at his fairly doubtful look, she explained. "Yes, I could shoot someone. If it's me or them, I don't want to die. My parents died when I was a little girl, my Aunt passed away when I was still in college, and my only living relative is in a mental facility for the criminally insane. If I've learned anything over the years, it's that life is precious, and I'm not ready to just throw in the towel and give up. I won't purposely take another person's life, but, if it's me or them, I'll shoot a gun in self-defense."

Before her companion could interject, the blonde continued. "And I'd defend someone else, too. I hate bloodshed. I think it's pointless and an immature way to solve a difference between two people, but, with that said, if I'm capable of saving an innocent person's life by firing a weapon at an attacker, then I'll do so." Laughing derisively but without any humor, she admitted, "I'd have to live with my actions and probably regret them six days out of seven for the rest of my life, but at least I'll be alive to feel regret, right?"

The mobster beside her seemed to contemplate her words for several quiet minutes before nodding his head in both acceptance and understanding. "Okay," he agreed. After several beats, he repeated himself, "okay. Let's do this then."

"Do what?"

"Get out of the car," he told her, not waiting for the pediatrics nurse to comply before opening his own door. "I'm going to teach you how to shoot my gun."

"What, here," Nadine questioned. Despite her skepticism at what she was hearing, she followed his orders. Once they were standing side by side in the field at the side of the road, she argued, "we can't do this now. I need to get a license first, take a gun safety course, and, then, afterwards, go to a firing range. What if I hit someone?"

"Yes, because there are so many people milling about."

"You know what I mean," the medical professional huffed, frustrated with the brunette's stubborn nature. "There are rules that are supposed to be followed. They're there for a reason."  


"Yeah, to be broken," Johnny pointed out snidely, making her glare at him. He only laughed though. "But, seriously, this is the best place for you to learn how to shoot," he told her. "No one's around, I'm beyond trained enough to show you how to fire a handgun, and firing ranges aren't realistic. If you're forced to fire to a weapon at someone in self defense, they're not going to be just standing still there for, waiting and ready for the bullet. They're going to be moving, perhaps fighting you, maybe even shooting at you. For now," the Zacchara heir instructed, "I just want you to get used to feel of the gun in your hands. The next time we stop, I'll set up some targets for you, and, eventually, hopefully, we'll stumble upon some wild animals for you to target."

"I'm not shooting Bambi!"

"Fine, we'll make it a rabbit."

Nadine gasped. "Not Thumper! He's my favorite."

"You're fucking whacked, do you know that?"

She didn't dignify that remark with a response, but he seemed to accept her silence as an admission of agreement, so he proceeded to start loading the gun. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing," Johnny asked her rhetorically. "You can't very well shoot a gun without bullets in it."

"So before when you pulled that on me to get me to drive, it was unloaded then?"

"Yes," he answered without looking up from his task at hand.

"And," the nurse pressed on, "when I pulled it on you to demand answers, which, by the way, you still haven't told me yet, it wasn't loaded then either?"

"You're a quick one, Crowell." Laughing, the brunette asked her, "did you really think I'd keep a loaded weapon in the car with someone who has absolutely no experience with a gun? I'm not suicidal."

"Just insane."

"Hey," he remarked casually. "It takes one to know one. Now," he instructed her, motioning the medical professional over so that she was standing in front of him, "let me show you how to work this thing."

Nadine took the weapon as offered, clumsily holding it in her right hand. "Hold it with both hands," her adultnapper directed, coming up and wrapping his arms around her. She instantly tensed at his touch. "Calm down or you'll shoot us both in the foot," Johnny teased. "Now," he spoke softly into her ear, all the while moving her body into position. "Put 

your right index finger on the trigger, and use your left hand to steady the gun. Feet braced a shoulder width apart, arms outstretched but not rigid, bend them slightly at the elbows so as not to hurt your shoulder, relax your muscles, and keep both eyes open. Never fire a weapon with one eye closed. That's such a clichéd Hollywood mistake."

"Now, there are ten bullets in the clip…"

"Clip," Nadine interrupted, unsure of what he was telling her.

"The cartridge," the mob heir explained gently. "I want you to fire all ten rounds without pause. Just pick a point in the horizon and pretend that you're shooting at it, okay?"

"Yeah," she agreed nervously, swallowing several times. "I can do this."

"I know you can."

As she started pulling the trigger as instructed, the brunette finally told her why they were on the run. "Early this morning when I got back home from the casino, I overheard my sister and Ian talking in her office. He knew that you were eavesdropping on their conversation last night, and he demanded that my sister take you out, to permanently silence you for good. Claudia agreed. And I know that we don't know each other very well, and I know you probably don't like me very much, but I refuse to sit back and allow another innocent casualty to be taken in this ridiculous war. No matter what, Nadine, I'm going to keep you safe. I promise you that."

By the time he finished talking, her clip – or cartridge – was empty. Turning around, the pediatrics nurse regarded the man still holding her loosely in his embrace carefully, slowly, unabashedly. "Show me how to load this thing," she demanded, handing him back the gun. "And then I want to try this again."

He smiled, agreeing to her commands easily, evidently taking them for what they were – acceptance and trust, and, as she Nadine turned back around to shoot off another ten rounds from the unmarked handgun, she silently made a promise to herself. If Johnny was so selflessly going to protect her, then she'd learn to do the same for the both of them as well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two**

**1.**

Hiding from the mob sucked.

In a lot of ways, being on the run was like going camping. As a child, her Aunt Rayleen had felt it important to give both her and her sister a sense of adventure. Even though, sometimes, they could barely afford to pay all their bills, when summer came around, it never failed. Their aunt always found a way to take them on vacation, and vacation in the Crowell residence meant camping… even if they just went a mile from their house and spent a week living in their neighbor's woods. And it didn't matter that they slept in second hand sleeping bags instead of a state of the art, luxurious camper; for Nadine and her older sister, they never remembered what they missed out on growing up, because, for them, they didn't know any better.

Sure, while traveling across the country with Johnny Zacchara in an effort to save her life was not a planned trip, there were still enough elements of her childhood camping excursions peppered into the experience to draw parallels. The everyday comforts one took for granted such as in door plumbing and electricity were, obviously, missing, but it was more than that. It was existing in such close quarters, living so intimately with another person without the option of finding a little slice of privacy when they got to be too much, it was finding new and unique sources of entertainment and companionship when a television was unavailable and the radio only brought in static, and it was discovering a new appreciation for quiet and subsisting, sometimes for hours, in comfortable silence. And, oddly enough, in a strange, unexpected way, Nadine found herself somewhat enjoying her trip with the young mob boss.

They had been on the road for more than twenty-four hours, finally stopping for more than just a few minutes. Because Johnny had allowed her to sleep during the night while he drove, she had no idea where they were, just that it was definitely not New York anymore. But she didn't care. It had been years since she, her older sister, and her aunt went camping. After Jolene graduated from high school, it felt odd for just her and her Aunt Rayleen to trek out into the woods together for a week of minimalist living, so their annual camping trips ceased. Then she had gone off to college, too, graduating only to live in a world where her aunt was deceased and her sister, as sad as it was to say, might have been better off if she was, too. Traveling with Johnny Zacchara was the first time in years that the nurse had been able to stop and simply feel, to pause and take a deep breath, and, despite the danger that constantly lurked behind them, the solitude of being on the run was a welcoming change.

… Not that she'd tell her captor that.

However, there were aspects of her bygone summer camping trips that she missed and couldn't experience in a car. S'mores were on the top of that list. After eating cereal and then some more cereal and then, once again, some more cereal the day before for all three of her meals, the perky blonde could almost imagine the taste of a rich, oozing S'more, and 

it made her mouth water in anticipation. Sure, it was only ten o'clock in the morning, but was it ever too early for chocolate?

She also missed actually laying down when she slept. Late the night before, they had ditched their first stolen car, switching it out for another criminally purloined vehicle. Unfortunately, the new source of transportation was a small sub-compact, too narrow for even her petite body to lounge out in the backseat for rest. So, instead, Nadine had been forced to sleep sitting up, her body wrenched in an uncomfortable position, her head bent and tilted to the side as she used the cool, glass of the passenger side window as her pillow. When she had fallen asleep the night before, the arrangement had felt like a sumptuous five-star king sized bed, but, when she woke up that morning, her back felt like it was a twisty folded and warped to resemble a pretzel.

Lamely, and even she could admit the nostalgia was lame, the pediatrics specialist missed the campfire songs she and her family used to sing at night while they were camping. Granted, the three of them had been anything but concert performers, but, as her Aunt Rayleen used to tease both she and her sister, at least their out of tune renditions of all their favorite songs kept the bears away at night, and, while traveling on the run from a crazed mob queen and her vengeful sidekick, the blonde found the thought quite appealing. Plus, the idea of getting Johnny Zacchara, of all men, to croon "Kumbaya" at the top of his voice while they were driving down the highway going eighty with the windows down, well, there was just something about that image that appealed to Nadine.

Laughing at both the very thought and her ridiculously rambling mind, the nurse shook her head, trying to refocus on the task at hand. She was standing in the middle of a shallow creek in just her thin bra and panties, attempting to do the best job she could at washing with only a bar of soap, all the while keeping in mind just how very chilled the water was. Despite summer being just around the corner, the nights were still cool, and the lakes, rivers, and streams had not gotten the chance yet to warm themselves from the sun's rays. And, on top of everything else, she certainly didn't need a cold or, worse, hypothermia.

"What's so funny?"

Whirling around to face the man who was taunting her, Nadine inanely, ineffectively reached with her arms to cover her almost nude form, glaring at the smirking brunette. "God, Johnny, don't do that."

He folded his arms over his chest, widening his stance as he stood above on the creek bed a few yards away, still watching her. "Do what?"

Waving her arms between them, the pediatrics nurse accused, "scare me like that!" Just as quickly as she had lifted the hands that were covering her vulnerable form before, she dropped them, once again, her palms slapping harshly over her wet skin. "Were you… were you watching me?"

"What," he scoffed. "Absolutely not."  


"Way to be a voyeur, Zacchara."

"Nadine," the underworld heir made her pause, his serious, trustworthy tone ringing loudly throughout the abandoned prairie. "I was not watching you." Before she could interrupt, he held up one finger, signaling for her to let him continue. "Was I looking out for you? Yes, but someone had to. You wanted to wash up, and that's understandable, but we're out in the open here, exposed, defenseless, and, just in case someone came by, I wanted to make sure I saw them well in advance, so I could get your attention and get back to the safety of the car… just in case."

"Oh," the blonde breathed out, easily accepting his explanation. "I see." Offering her companion a weak, sham of a smile, she continued, "well, with that in mind, thanks, I guess."

"There's no need to thank me. I'm just doing what I promised you I would – keeping you safe."

"Yeah, but don't you think this is going above the call of duty," Nadine posed. Pressing on before he could react, she explained, "I mean, you asked me one innocent question, and I practically hurdled down your throat, accusing you of watching me as I bathed. Despite our present situation, you've been nothing but respectful towards me, and I shouldn't have immediately jumped to conclusions. I mean, the thought you being attracted to me, it's just… You have Lulu, and…"

"Just hurry up," Johnny instructed her brusquely, stopping her mid-tirade. "We need to get on the road again."

"But aren't you going to wash up?"

"No," the brunette informed her, already having turned his back as he started towards the car. "We're going to stop in a couple of hours for lunch, for some real food. I'm so fucking sick of cereal right now…"

"Hey," the nurse interjected, defending herself. "You're the one who packed the food."

"And you're the one who had nothing but cinnamon toast crunch, ice cream, and pickles in your entire kitchen. We're just lucky I'm not a diabetic."

With that, he walked too far away from her for them to complete their conversation, and she turned back to the task at hand, hurrying to finish up her washing. Her hair, despite being slightly greasy and still matted with all the hair spray she had used two days prior for the casino reopening party would just have to remain dirty; there was no way she was going to stick her head into the running creek water or use a bar of soap to scrub it with. But her body was at least clean.

Stepping out of the shallow river bed, she dressed, pulling on a fresh pair of cropped sweat pants and a plain, basic t-shirt before rejoining her traveling companion in the car. Without a word, Johnny pulled off the shoulder, punching the gas. They didn't speak, and, unlike their previous silences, it wasn't comfortable. Staring out the window, Nadine found that she felt slightly dejected. Gone was her good mood from just a few minutes earlier. And the worst part was that she knew exactly why she was upset. For some odd reason, it bothered her that Johnny had not been watching her almost nude form as she bathed in the creek.

As soon as the realization occurred to her, though, she dismissed it. She was just lonely. And stressed. And it had been a long time since she had spent any alone time with an attractive man. The road was simply playing tricks on her, ones that were rather unwelcoming. The last thing she needed was to develop some insipid school girl crush on the man who was saving her life, a man who was, if not happily, at least faithfully involved with someone else. Lamenting the fact that Johnny didn't find her tempting was just another effect from being on the road with him - nothing more and nothing less, and her sudden bout of melancholy was laughable.

Too bad laughing was what got her into her present muddled predicament in the first place. She'd merely have to stop having such a good time. After all, running away from a mob hit was nothing to joke about, and comparing it to camping with her older sister and dearly loved and departed aunt had been foolish… among many other less than favorable things. And she was going to have to stop before she got them both killed.

**2. **

"Okay, wait, wait, wait," Abby loudly interrupted the story, waving her arms in front of her just in case her elevated voice didn't capture the nurse's attention. "Tell me the truth. I'm not a child, you know. Tell me what really happened."

Nadine stared at her younger friend, puzzlement written blaring across her otherwise stoic face. "I don't… what are you talking about? I'm not lying to you."

"I know that," the teenager brushed off, rolling her eyes. "I know that you'd never purposely hide anything from me at this point, but I do think that you're glossing over the story, avoiding certain topics."

"Like what?"

"Like how you really felt back then," the cancer patient informed her challengingly. "You honestly can't tell me that you were just lonely. And, as for Johnny, he was totally checking you out."

Letting out a short laugh, the pediatrics nurse shook her head in amusement. "You know, he's never admitted to that."

"Even to this day?"

"The words have never crossed his lips. He has always maintained that he really was just looking out for me and that my laughter captured his attention, pulling him away from his surveillance."

"That's complete and utter bullshit," Abby protested, eyes wide with indignation on her older friend's behalf. "He's such a man, lying to protect his ego."

"Well, maybe he's not lying," the blonde suggested helpfully.

"Oh, please, the two of you were totally falling in love with each other already at that point."

Coughing, Nadine almost choked on her own words. "Love?" Standing up, she approached the patient, pretending to mess with her chart and the machines lined up beside her. "I think I better call the doctor in here and have him reevaluate your meds, because you're obviously higher than a leer jet right now."

"Come on, don't do that," the fifteen year old insisted, grabbing somewhat feebly at her companions arm in the hopes of getting her to sit back down. Once the nurse complied, she pressed on. "Don't dismiss your feelings like that."

"I'm not. Look," the older woman explained, spreading her hands out wide before her in a gesture of compliance. "At that point, Johnny and I barely knew each other. He was just this good looking guy who decided to be noble and save my life, and, for him, I was just some pain in the ass woman who talked too much and kept her kitchen poorly stocked. The most mature thing we were probably feeling for each other that morning all those months ago was lust. Like I said, I was lonely, and it had been quite a while since I was…"

"With a man," Abby filled in, waving her along. "Yeah, I get it. You were horny."

The blonde immediately blushed, averting her face so it was hidden in the shadows. "Oh my god."

"What? I've had sex-ed; I know how these things work. Hell, half of my old friends from school were already sexually active. You're a woman, you have needs, and, apparently, this Johnny guy you're always going on about can really get your motor running."

"Can we skip the car euphemisms, please?"

"Sure," the terminally ill patient assured her, moving on without pause. "And I'm willing to bet that, no matter what this guy has told you, he was into you, too."

"Don't forget about his girlfriend." Nadine couldn't help it; she had to giggle at the annoyed, rather disgusted look on her younger friend's expressive face. "I believe I've mentioned her a few times already."

"You have," the teen responded, visibly recoiling. "Ugh, what's up with that anyway? He's already dating someone, but he goes on the road with you? Who the hell is this Lulu chick?"

"Well, the nurse answered slowly, attempting to keep her description as unbiased as possible. "She's blonde, blue eyed, about my size and height."

"Ugh," Abby groaned… again. "He's got a type."

"I certainly hope not," she screeched, glaring at the fifteen year old, all efforts of impartiality forgotten in her haste to separate herself from the same category as Johnny's ex. Noticing her younger friend's merriment, the blatantly wicked twinkle in her eye, she calmed down almost instantaneously, realizing that she'd just been played and, essentially, by a child, nonetheless. "Look, if you'd quit interrupting me, I could get on with the story. We actually ended up discussing Lulu that afternoon when we stopped for lunch."

"Then, please, be my guest," the bald patient offered, snuggling down deeper and more comfortably in her bed. Though her eyes closed, Nadine knew she was still very much awake; she just preferred to sit in the absolute dark while the pediatrics specialist spoke, finding it easier to imagine the story that way. The sad thing was it was easier for her to tell it that way, too.

**3.**

For some reason, her ham and cheddar cheese melt on sourdough bread was just not hitting the spot. She had ordered it for the simple fact that it was comfort food, a staple from her childhood, but, sitting across from Johnny Zacchara as he calmly, slowly, almost regally ate his grilled chicken breast and spinach green salad (how he had managed to find the one diner in the Midwest that actually served that in the first place, she'd never know), Nadine felt inadequate and most definitely immature. Granted, the sentiment was partly due to some leftover emotions from that morning, but, at the same time, for some reason, anything she seemed to do or say in front of the mobster spoiled and because naïve and inexperienced in nature before she had time to second guess and stop herself. It was frustrating, especially since it was appallingly evident that she just couldn't help herself, and it was maddening because the brunette sitting across from her seemed to find it absurdly amusing.

He was such a guy!

Distracting the nurse for a moment, her dining companion's cell phone started to ring, and, before he could reach out for it, she beat him to it, glancing at the caller id screen with a exigent smirk on her fresh, clean face. If Johnny was going to insist upon invading her privacy, whether intentional or not, then turnabout, as far as she was concerned, was fair game. It wasn't as though she was actually going to answer his phone for him. Rather, she was just curious as to who was calling him and what his reaction to said caller would be.

For some reason, the fact that the person on the other end of the mobile was Lulu Spencer made her shoulder slump and her sneer fall and settle into a frown. Handing the phone back 

to Johnny, she informed him, "it's your girlfriend." But he didn't answer it. Instead, he simply placed the quietly ringing device back on the Formica counter top, returning to his partially eaten salad. "Why aren't you answering it?"

"We're on the run."

That was it - four simple, seemingly innocuous words, but she wasn't satisfied with his response, for it didn't make sense to her. Why would a man who was, ostensibly, a perfect stranger, despite their brief moments of connection, ignore a call from the woman he was dating… for her? While she would never maintain to actually like Lulu Spencer or understand why Johnny was dating her, let alone ever claim to be her friend, the fact remained that the mob heir did, she would presume, care deeply for the other blonde, and, for that fact alone, he should talk to her if he wanted to, whether she was sitting in the booth with him or not.

"You know," Nadine confided, speaking quickly so that she could say what she wanted before his voice mail picked up. "I don't mind if you talk to her. You love Lulu, and, if you trust her to the know the truth about our situation, then so do I. I have faith in your judgment."

However, the phone continued ringing, finally ceasing long enough for the woman on the other line to seemingly leave a message before it started buzzing again. Unblinking, she watched as the man across from her deleted the voice mail before turning the cell off, never once even stopping to listen to what his girlfriend had to say to him. It was all quite bewildering, especially when the pediatrics specialist considered the ramifications Johnny's actions carried in concern to his relationship. After all, she wasn't blind. She knew perfectly well that there were problems between the fledgling couple; her in name only and not by action abductor had made that flawlessly clear two nights before as he drank his way into a stupor, but never had she expected to witness the brunette showing such a flagrant disregard for his girlfriend.

"Lulu," he started only to stop, letting out a harsh breath when words failed him. "It's complicated."

"I see."

"No," Johnny argued, meeting her gaze, "you don't." Pushing his food aside, he folded his hands before him on the table, seemingly gathering his words. Finally, he continued. "When Lulu and I met, she was already involved with another guy."

"Logan Hayes," Nadine offered, both to show that she was listening to him and that she knew a little bit of the other blonde's history.

He nodded, moving on. "To say that their relationship had its problems would be an understatement, but, while hanging out with me, she tried to make it work with him. At this point, I don't even know who she's dating. One week, it's me, and, the next, she's pushing me away and hanging all over Logan, visiting him in the hospital, talking to him at Kelly's, 

spending time with him."

"And you're jealous?"

"Not really," the brunette argued, thinking about his statement before he said it. "I just… I'm confused. Who does she want?"

"Maybe Lulu doesn't even know the answer to that question, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't talk to her when she calls you."

"But it's more than that," Johnny pressed, sighing loudly as he lifted one hand to comb his fingers through his already tousled hair. Letting the appendage fall back to join the other, he said, "Lulu, she gets my lifestyle. She was raised in it, her Dad still likes to pretend that he's a player, and she, theoretically, has no qualms with the violence and the danger. It's almost like she's attracted to it, but, on the other hand, she's always trying to change me, to make me feel guilty for not choosing her over my family. Sometimes, I think that, instead of bringing out the best in me, Lulu only exasperates the worst."

"Well, that I can't help you with. I don't know you well enough to make that type of decision about you or your relationship with your girlfriend. However," the nurse prefaced, pausing for effect. "I can tell you this: wanting to change for the better for someone is a beautiful thing, but it shouldn't be necessary. Whomever you're with, they should love you for who you already are and not for who you could be."

"So, you think that I should stop seeing Lulu?"

Nadine's eyes got wide as she protested her new acquaintance's question. "I never said that. I'm just giving you some food for thought here. Only you can determine whether or not you should be with Lulu, and, maybe, to do that, you need to talk to her first."

"You're good with this type of stuff," the future heir to the Zacchara empire complimented.

"What, giving advice?"

"No," he argued, chuckling softly. "With relationships."

"Well, you know what they say about those who can't do…" It wasn't necessary for either of them to respond to her admission, so, instead, the young blonde changed the topic. Picking up Johnny's turned off cell phone, she toyed with it in her hands, their lunch completely forgotten. "So, tell me. Why can't we be tracked down by this thing? Don't they all come with some kind of signaling device… or something?"

"They do, but I had mine taken out."

Nadine smiled, a big, goofy grin that had the man across from her returning the gesture, albeit slightly less enthusiastically. "That's just… super cool. You know, whenever we get 

back, I'm going to totally hit up my local video store. If there's a mafia or CIA movie in existence, I'm going to watch it, because I have a feeling they could teach me some valuable things if I continue to live in Port Charles."

Standing up, the brunette waited for her to join him, dropping more than enough money on the table to cover both their lunch and their waitress' tip, before talking. "Or," he suggested, casually leading her out of the restaurant. "You could just ask me to give you lessons. The movies aren't accurate anyway."

"You're just afraid that I'll be able to learn something that not even you know."

"Fat chance of that ever happening."

"Oh, those are big words, Zacchara."

He grinned rakishly at her, sliding into the driver's seat. Once Nadine was buckled in, he turned to her, starting the car at the same time. "And I'm a big enough man to see them through."

Averting her gaze, the petite nurse refused to look at him as they drove away from the little roadside diner, her cheeks burning brighter than the afternoon sun at what his words implied.

**4.**

Night had long since descended upon wherever they were in the middle of nowhere, cloaking their little corner of the world in both silence and darkness. But Nadine didn't mind the peace. After taking over at the wheel that afternoon, she had driven them through two states before stopping to wake Johnny from his slumber. They had grabbed a quick bite to eat, switched cars once again, and then he had taken over the driving responsibilities, giving her a chance to relax. But she was restless.

Just as she had the evening before, her body was curled up in the passenger seat, and her head was pressed against the cool glass beside her, the window slowly warming from her skin's touch. With her lids closed, she couldn't see where they were going, but that didn't matter. She trusted Johnny. Wherever he took them, she knew it would be for the best, and, even if she couldn't sleep, she could at least give her tired eyes a break.

"I hate that you ever got involved in this, in my life… with me," Johnny lamented, whispering softly as if he was talking to himself. Cracking her eyes open, the pediatrics specialist glanced over at her traveling companion only to find him staring out the front windshield. He, obviously, thought she was asleep. "You don't deserve this, Nadine, none of this. You don't deserve to be dragged from your home and taken all the way across the country because some greedy, selfish, manipulative bastard deemed that you had to die.

"I'm just… I'm so sorry."

He fell quiet for several moments, and she thought he was finished only for the brunette to start talking once again. "But thank you. Thank you for having confidence in me and my abilities to keep you safe. It's more faith than anyone's every shown me before, and I just… it feels good. It feels good to know that you believe in me."

Johnny fell silent again, and, this time, she was going to speak up, but his next actions left her completely astounded and speechless. As they pulled up to a stoplight, the car ceasing to move, the man beside her turned in his seat, facing her. Because her eyes were closed, she couldn't see what he was doing, but then she felt it – the back of his fingers running so softly down her smooth cheek that they were almost imperceptible.

"You're so beautiful…"

But then the light turned green, and he removed his hand. Smiling softly to herself, Nadine remained still, savoring the stolen, delightfully mystifying moment. She didn't know what the touch meant or if it even meant anything at all, but, for that night, the gesture was enough in and of itself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three**

**1.**

Going to the doctor's sucked.

… At least it had when Nadine was a child. As a little girl, she had hated how they poked and prodded her, stuck weird things in her ears or up her nose or in her mouth when she wasn't allowed to do the same thing out of curiosity herself, and they always gave her nasty tasting medicine when she was sick. The only good thing about going to the doctor's was getting out of school, but Jolene would find a way to ruin that for her, too. As sisters were good at, her oldest and only sibling could turn the most joyous of occasions into pure torture just for the sheer enjoyment of causing her baby sister pain and suffering. All kids did it, but, growing up, Nadine felt as if her sister was the only one, or, if not the only one, then at least the best at the game.

She would tell all the kids at school that Nadine had diarrhea and that's why she was getting out of school early, effectively making sure that no one would play with the younger of the two Crowell sisters for at least a week. Or she would say that Nadine had cooties, so the little boys and girls would cross their fingers whenever the blue eyed, blonde, pigtail wearing student walked past them. As they grew older, Jolene's tricks didn't work any longer, but she still found ways to embarrass her sister.

When she had gotten her period for the first time and had to start seeing the gynecologist, the older of the two girls had written an article for the school newspaper, detailing how one manage to live with a moody, PMS'ing, younger sibling. When Nadine had gotten braces, Jolene did mock research and distributed flyers on how to kiss someone without getting caught on all the metal in their mouth, effectively turning her baby sister into a social outcast for fourteen months while the braces remained on her teeth. And, when Nadine had gotten mono her junior year of high school, her older sibling conducted a survey to determine just who exactly had passed the kissing disease along to her sister.

So, it had come as no shock to their Aunt Rayleen that Jolene had decided to study nursing in college. It seemed fitting after she had managed to gain years of pleasure from watching her sister suffer at the hands of medicine and dentistry during their childhood growing up together. But it had surprised everyone that Nadine had chosen the same career path, partly because no one could understand how the two sisters could be so close after Jolene had mercilessly teased her for so long and partly because of her absolute abhorrence to going to the doctor's office. However, Nadine had her reasons. In her mind, she thought that, if she could help alleviate other kids' fear of checkups and shots, medicine and noisy, hygienic white paper, then she would.

But that still didn't mean that she liked every aspect of her job. She still cringed sometimes when she saw a doctor tap a child's knees to test their reflexes, despite the fact that she knew the task didn't hurt, and a chill always inevitably coursed its way down her spine whenever a patient had to have a cold stethoscope placed on their back, and the chances were that she would always have those involuntary reactions to her own profession. Though 

many things had changed over the years, including her relationship with her now comatose sister, others had remained stagnant and ever static.

Curling herself even deeper into the cramped front seat of the car, Nadine encouraged the sleep she was operating under; she welcomed the dream that were floating her way. It was a favorite one from childhood, one that still revisited her often, and, in it, she found inspiration for the future, stimulation for change. The pediatrics nurse fully believed that, if things at a doctor's office were turned into pleasant experiences, often through taste, then children wouldn't mind going as much. So, with that in mind, she often fantasized at night about swabs that tasted like cotton candy that could check for strep throat and tongue depressors that were actually lollipops in various, assorted flavors, and, even though she knew she was in the middle of another slumber induced hallucination, it was one she never wanted to wake from.

"Son of a mother-fucking bitch!"

And, unfortunately, those words were not a part of her reverie.

"Jesus Christ, this cannot be happening now! Drive along, you fucking porcine bastard. I do not need this shit right now."

Grumbling tetchily in her half-awake state, Nadine rubbed the crusty sleep from her eyes, her brow wrinkled in discontentment and disorientation. Slowly, though, her heavy lids pulled open, and, immediately, she was thrown into a world with flashing red and blue lights and a menacingly scowling Johnny Zacchara. However, nothing made sense to her. One minute, she was content and sleeping, and, the next thing she knew, she was thrown into a primary hued hell colored with words that would make even the grittiest teamster blush.

"This is just a nightmare," she chanted to herself, not quite ready yet to accept reality. "I'm going to wake up, then go back to sleep, and, once I do, I can eat that tongue depressor I was just dreaming about."

A snort distracted her from her wishful thinking. "Well, that explains a whole hell of a lot."

Narrowing her gaze, she glared at the man beside her, completely thrown by the fact that he had gone from mimicking a surly sailor to joking around without pausing in the middle for her to even attempt to keep up. And to tease her at such an inappropriate time…

"It's your choice," the mob heir informed her, never once taking his eyes off the road ahead of them. "This is just some local sheriff. I don't know if he, by luck, figured out that we're in a stolen car, or if we just have a brake light out, and he wants to be prick about it, but this is going to affect you more than it will me. I've always kind of known that I'd either end up dead or in prison, but you… Anyway, we can either try to outrun him, or I can pull over and…"

"Pull over," the blonde instructed, never allowing her companion the chance to finish his 

thoughts. "And, whatever you do, don't do anything stupid. I have a plan."

"You," he questioned, obvious disbelief in his voice. "You have a plan?"

"Yes," Nadine answered, insulted by his tone. "A woman is capable of thought, you know."

"I never…"

"And sometimes you have to look at things from a different perspective than gangster-cop. Sometimes you have to take a more normal approach to life. Now, pull over this damn car, look scared, and, whatever you do, do not pull out your gun. I'll handle this."

Acting quickly, the nurse blindly reached behind her into the back seat for the sweatshirt she had worn the day before, removing it from her open duffle bag without turning around or altering her front facing position. Balling up the bulky material, she shoved it underneath the current sweatshirt she was wearing, reaching for and opening up the bottled water beside her all at the same time. Pouring the time and sun warmed liquid down the front of her pants, the seat, and onto the floor, she finished setting the stage, tossing the empty, plastic container into the backseat before the sheriff could even climb out of his car. By the time he approached Johnny's window, she was panting with exertion, screaming in pain, and, gripping the arm rest on the passenger side so hard, her knuckles were white from the strain.

"What seems to be the problem here, fol…" The stranger's words trailed off, and, despite the fact that she was concentrating on her ruse, Nadine could imagine him swallowing thickly, gracelessly several times as sweat beads broke out on his greasy, pale forehead. "Oh my god. She's… she's having a baby."

Cool and collected, Johnny asked in response, "was I speeding, Officer?"

"Is she supposed to sound… so loud?"

"Well, I don't really know." To emphasize the sheriff's fears, she let out a blood curdling scream, almost laughing when she heard the uniformed man of the law whimper in reply. Afterwards, the brunette beside her explained, "you see, Sir, this is our first kid."

"Well, congratulations, son," the cop offered, reaching his hand in through the car window to shake Johnny's. "You're a braver man than I am. Why, my old best gal mentioned kids one night when we were on a date… at a pig roast… No, it was an ox roast, and, as soon as she said that word, I took her home, called it off, and I haven't dated since." The sheriff chuckled at his own cowardliness. "I'm afraid I'm destined to be a life-long bachelor."

Realizing the stranger could go on and on about himself, Nadine decided to kick things into high gear. Pushing her hips further down into the seat and spreading her knees open as if she was ready to push, she yelled out, "I think I feel it's head!"

"I'm, um," the officer gulped, backing away from their stolen vehicle. "Have a nice night, folks, and good luck." And, with that, he scrambled into his cruiser and peeled away from the side of the road so quickly, he left dust in his wake.

"I can't believe that worked."

"Of course it worked," the pediatrics nurse defended. "Even men who have had nine months to prepare for the arrival of their child freak out when their wives go into labor. They grow cold and clammy, they start sweating profusely, and the really bad ones faint. It's a common human reaction to fear the unknown, and, for men, labor and delivery are the greatest unknown there is."

"Thank god."

As he pulled back onto the road, quiet descended, once again, over the small car. Johnny drove, and Nadine, through awkward fumbling, changed out of her wet clothes as elegantly as she could, using her emptied duffle bag to sit on so that the wet seat wouldn't bleed through her new, dry pants. On one hand, while it felt odd to be so comfortable undressing and then redressing in front of a man who was, just a few days prior, a virtual stranger, on the other hand, it felt almost natural at that point. She was less self-conscious around the mafia prince than she was around the doctors she worked with on a daily basis.

Startling the young blonde, her companion started to chuckle. "Did you see the look on that guy's face when you said you could feel the head? Oh, it was priceless, almost worth risking discovery by taking a picture of him with my cell phone. I never thought I'd find a more incapable police force than the one back home in Port Charles, but the Little River County Sheriff's Department just might take the cake."

"You're sick, do you realize that," she asked him rhetorically, already launching into her next attack even before he could respond. "We could have been caught back there, but, instead of being thankful that the officer let us go, you're making fun of him."

"He didn't let us go, Nadine; you tricked him. And, as for being sick, I'm not the one who was fantasizing about eating wooden sticks."

Growing frustrated, she sighed in exasperation, speaking without thinking. "They're lollipop tongue depressors, not wooden ones!" However, once she realized what she revealed, the nurse settled back down, carefully schooled her features, and pretended to be interested in the night landscape passing them by out the car window. "And, anyway, that's not the point."

"No," Johnny agreed with her reverently. "It's not." After several silent moments, he cleared his throat, offering her a hasty, hesitant compliment, all the while flexing his fisted hands even tighter around the steering wheel. "You, uh, you looked nice back there."

"Back where?"  


"Back there," he repeated ineptly. Blowing out a harsh breath, the brunette clarified, "pregnant - you look beautiful pregnant."

And, like no one else seemed capable of doing, Johnny Zacchara had rendered her speechless once again.

**2.**

Despite the fact that they had only been on the road for about 58 hours, it felt almost surreal for Nadine to be sitting in a real room… with doors and windows, furniture, electricity and plumbing. Apparently, she had gotten used to being on the run, or, if she hadn't, she had, at least, gotten used to life in a car. Just outside of the Mexican border, they had stopped for the night, finding some out of the way, two-bit motel that would accept cash in lieu of a credit card, and were camped out for the evening in order to rest, recuperate, and restore themselves for what was sure to be the most dangerous part of their journey: their trip across country lines.

She wasn't sure how Johnny was planning on getting into Mexico. Although he was wealthy enough to bribe a border agent, she knew that he had only brought so much cash with him, and there would be no quick trips to the ATM for them. Plus, they would need his money once they got into the foreign country for survival, and, not knowing how long they would be in residence, every single last penny mattered. If they didn't try to pass through the actual gates, they were also close to the water, the Gulf of Mexico just a mere handful of miles away. Was he planning on sneaking in on boat, either stealing a vessel to pilot himself or hitching a ride with another traveler? Although she was curious, although it was her life on the line, too, Nadine didn't ask any questions. She trusted Johnny and his judgment, and, whatever he felt was best, she would do. After all, it was because of him that she was still alive in the first place, so he must have been doing something right already. There was no need for her to interfere.

Still dressed in her clothes from the night before, the petite nurse sat on the edge of the double bed nearest the bathroom door. The television was before her, but she didn't feel like watching anything. She knew that there were complimentary pens and paper in the desk along the far wall, but she wasn't feeling particularly poetic or loquacious, and she certainly was no artist. Briefly, she had considered rummaging around outside in their latest stolen car to see if there was a map in the glove compartment, but she had quickly dismissed the idea, knowing she was no cartographer either.

So, instead of doing anything productive or even self-entertaining, she remained still, her clean pajamas, or, to be more precise, the clothes she was planning on wearing as pajamas – a long t-shirt and, of course, undergarments, folded neatly beside her, as she waited for Johnny to finish in the shower. He had shaved first, the running tap water and the repetitive clinking of his razor against the sink alerting her to the fact, before moving on to wash his hair and body, and, even though she felt agitated and impatient for her own shower, she didn't begrudge him the ever-passing time. While she had bathed the past two days in country creeks, he had withheld from doing so, no doubt making him eager to wash away 

the dust and all the other reminders of the road.

Snapping up her gaze at the sound of the door opening, she watched her traveling companion emerge from a cloud of steam, a towel slung low on his trim hips and another carelessly draped around his shoulders, leaving much of his upper body bare and glistening with fallen water droplets. He showed no discomfort in having her present before him in his state of undress, no embarrassment, and she strived to feel and act just as nonchalant.

It was impossible though.

Standing up, Nadine averted her gaze from the mob heir, focusing her attentions, instead, upon gathering up her supplies for the shower and repeatedly tucking her shoulder length hair behind her ears. With her back turned to the brunette, she started talking, saying the very first thing that popped into her mind and regretting it almost instantly.

"Feel better?"

If she was really going to forget about Johnny Zacchara in the shower… and then out of the shower, she probably shouldn't have asked him about the experience, but hindsight was twenty-twenty, and, currently, she was traveling through life legally blind.

Answering her, he replied, "like a real boy."

"Aw, so that's how you came by that nose." Tapping her own in accordance with her statement, the pediatrics specialist teased.

"Not all of have cute button noses like you, Nadine."

As the words flowed forth from the future underworld boss' lips, she flushed a pretty scarlet, rolling her eyes in response before ducking into the bathroom and shutting the door quickly behind her. Undressing in a rush, she paid little attention to her actions, simply flinging the articles of clothing she had been wearing haphazardly around the small, brightly tiled floor. If she didn't know better, she would have thought that her twice-guilty adultnapper had just complimented her; if she didn't know better, she would have thought that he was flirting with her.

But she had to be wrong. After all, the blonde was positive that Johnny simply didn't see her… like that. She was his responsibility, a burden, a pain in his side, and, at most, they were making their way towards a tentative friendship. Plus, he had a girlfriend, an ex-girlfriend, a someone waiting for him back home, or whatever it was that Lulu Spencer represented for him, and that meant that she, Nadine, had absolutely no business replaying their conversation over and over in her mind as she washed her hair, that she should not be wasting precious sleeping time in order to shave her legs… just in case.

As she often did in her times of emotional need and mental struggle, the perky nurse tried to envision her aunt. Whenever she had a problem she couldn't solve on her own, her Aunt 

Rayleen had always been able to offer her some form of advice or wisdom gained through her own experience, and, even though, often enough, the guidance only managed to confuse her long enough, as a child, to forget her troubles in the first place, the older, perspicacious woman's help had guided Nadine through many a moment of heartache and uncertainty as she grew from a precocious kid into a confused teenager and then an even more bewildered adult.

But, unfortunately, her Aunt Rayleen had been a hopeless romantic and a rather passionate subscriber to the ideals of Feminism and women's liberation, and her hauntingly whispered words of counsel and insight swirling around in the blonde's head only seemed to complicated matters further. Twisting off the water harshly, Nadine stepped out of the shower, toweling dry and getting dressed in record time. After combing out her hair and brushing her teeth, she made her way back out into the main room of the hotel, finding Johnny already in his own bed and the lights out.

Choosing the far side of the double mattress, she climbed under the covers, sighing softly to herself. Forty-five minutes ago when they had pulled up to the little roadside motel, she had been exhausted, but now… Well, to put it straightforwardly, sleep was the very last thing on her over-active, inappropriate mind.

_Trust your heart, child. It understands what your head cannot yet conceive._

Turning her back on the man resting peacefully across from her, the pediatrics nurse pulled her thin sheet up to her neck almost as if it would be able to strangle her Aunt's very thoughts out of her.

_Make it too tough for an enemy to get in and you can't get out._

Grumbling under her breath, Nadine cursed her incommodious relative, willing her, for once, to just be quiet.

_You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation._

Now, that, she deemed silently to herself, was just a low blow on her Aunt's behalf. Resituating her pillow, she tossed and turned hoping to find such a comfortable position, that she would simply melt into sleep.

"Hey."

The simple word was softly spoken but much too loud to be coming from _the other _bed. Twisting around, the blonde found her traveling companion lying beside her, their faces mere inches apart. Without responding, she simply stared at him, wide eyed and acutely aware. But, still, he said nothing else. Reaching for her hand, he took it between both of his own, using his long, thin fingers to massage the tender, supple flesh of her palm.

Finally, Johnny asked, "you okay?"  


She wasn't, but she swallowed her hesitation anyway and nodded her head yes.

Meeting his unwavering, penetrating gaze, Nadine whispered, "I'm not tired anymore."

And they both knew _exactly _what she meant.

**3.**

Nadine sat awkwardly in the silence that had rapidly descended over her friend's hospital room. Lips pursed and pushed to the side, knitting needles poised to loop and curl, eyes darting everywhere but towards the teenager sitting before her, she avoided Abby's presence, aiming for aloofness and trying to present an air of finality to her story. She knew she was failing horribly, and she also knew that the cancer patient rarely allowed her any leeway, but she was hoping, just once, that the young girl wouldn't insist upon knowing every last, sordid detail.

It was a foolish, shortsighted hope.

"Uh… why did you stop there?"

If you couldn't beat them with composure and discretion, feign stupidity. "Where?"

Abby huffed, pounding her frail fists into the hard mattress of her twin bed. "At the good part," she answered, clearly frustrated. "You know I love the juice."

"Then you're a brave woman," Nadine teased, glancing down upon her lap to avoid her friend's gaze. "The last person who admitted that ended up a bloody lawn ornament."

"I have no idea what you're blathering on about."

Stunned, the blonde looked up. "O.J. Simpson, white bronco, 'if the glove fits…'" Nothing – absolutely no recognition. "Wow, I feel old."

"And I'm going to be old before you ever get back to the story," the fifteen year old complained. "So, on with it. Give me the juice."

"You know, sometimes too much juice is bad for you."

"Well, then use your discretion Nurse Crowell," the terminal patient suggested smartly, "but I better not be thirsty by the time you're finished."

"Alright, okay, sheesh, I'll tell you," she agreed, laughing uneasily at the prospect facing her. "It's just…"

"What?"

"Well, no offense, but, technically, you're a child, and this is a must be eighteen to rent story."

"Look," Abby replied, pushing herself up slightly in bed so that she was sitting taller. "I know how old I am, and, yeah, personally, I've never had sex, but that doesn't mean that I don't understand it. I've had the classes, I've seen the pictures, I'm a child of the internet generation. You're not going to shock me, and you're certainly not going to scare me. This is something I'll never be able to actually experience myself, so, if nothing else, let me live vicariously through you." The teenager paused long enough to consider her own words, wrinkling her face in disgust. "Wow, that actually sounded kind of creepy in retrospect."

"It's fine. I understand what you were trying to say."

"Good," her friend agreed, grinning in a pleased manner. "So, does that mean that you'll share all the yummy details?"

"All, no; some, yes," Nadine responded, earning herself a satisfied shrug of the shoulders from the cancer patient. "But I'm warning you, if this _ever _goes _anywhere _besides between the two of us…" Her words died off, the threat left unfinished but absolutely clear.

"I would never say anything."

And the young nurse believed her.

**4.**

Everything started slowly; everything occurred in a blur.

As she realized Johnny's strokes against her palm had ceased, she felt his left hand slip underneath her nightshirt only to come to a rest against the small of her back. Using his grip on her to pull her even closer to him, she moved willingly, fitting flawlessly alongside his chest. His fingers then started to swirl, rubbing soft, concentric caresses up and down her spine, relaxing Nadine into a state of serene responsiveness. Surprising herself at her boldness, she glided one bare, silken thigh between his own corded legs, crooking her knee up to rest her limb against his backside. Apparently, it was all the invitation… and then some… that the brunette needed to continue.

Their first kiss was achingly sweet, faltering yet right. His lips met hers just once, a quick coupling of pliant flesh, before he pulled back, a smile lighting up his entire handsome face. But then things shifted between them, became more sure. With eyes ablaze with desire and need, Johnny took her mouth and possessed it, studying its every crevice, memorizing its every nuance, savoring its every offering. And she did the same in return of him.

Wanting more, craving more, the nurse pushed her hands underneath his plain t-shirt, sighing into her lover's mouth as soon as her cool fingers grazed his heated skin. He was on fire, burning from the inside out, and scorching the very sensitive pads of her digits, but it only made her touch him more. Exploring his body, she ran her palms up his abdomen to 

his chest, kneading the tantalizing muscles of his form and savoring the ripples that washed through them. His reaction to her contact, to her, emboldened Nadine more, and she bent her fingers, drawling her nails against the mafia heir's skin. She was rewarded for her audacity.

Jumping slightly when Johnny bit into her bottom lip, his sharp teeth drawing blood only for his devilishly talented tongue to lick it soothingly away, the nurse spiraled out of control, losing herself in the moment when she heard his pleased amusement reverberating around them. His laughter made him pull back from her mouth, but, before she could complain of the loss, the man beside her used the opportunity to free them of their shirts, leaving them both clothed in very little, she in her utilitarian, black boy shorts and he in his matching boxer-briefs.

Their mouths fused back together, but, unlike before, his kisses weren't drugging in their all-consuming previous manner but slow and incessant, rhythmical and melodious like a lazy, Sunday afternoon nap in the late summer sunshine. The softer, gentler actions soothed her bruised lips but manage to tempt her all the more at the same time. Lulled into a sense of repose and leisure, she never noticed Johnny's straying hands, his wandering fingers as he moved from admiring and teasing her pert, ripe breasts, to her smooth, flat stomach, to the oversensitive flesh between her thighs. It wasn't until she felt him slip one lean digit underneath the edge of her panties and into her ready and waiting core that she realized just how far, how gone the two of them already were.

They were past the point of no return, and Nadine only wanted to go further.

As he stimulated her body, awakening pleasure and desire inside of her left unexplored and unsatisfied for so long, the young blonde felt the need to return the favor, not because she felt she owed it to him but because she wanted to give him just as much bliss as he was giving her. Using her hands to push down his suddenly too tight underwear, she allowed her fingers to wrap around his pulsating form, squeezing and pumping and massaging.

Somewhere in the middle of satisfying each other, her boy shorts disappeared as well, leaving them both completely nude and deliciously vulnerable to the other, and, as Johnny's fingers slipped from inside her warm cavern only to be replaced moments later when he entered her, filled her, completed her, she realized that she was falling for him. It made no sense, and, to be honest, it was rather inconvenient, but logic and ease had a nasty habit of disappearing in the face of emotion, leaving one left with only their base, more animalistic thoughts and feelings.

The brunette loving her body, though, refused to let her think about anything but the moments they were sharing together. Rolling them over so that she was braced on top of him, Johnny repositioned their forms so that Nadine was straddling his hips, her knees pressed into the mattress along his sides, her torso aligned and lounged out on top of his own. Wrapping his arms around her, he wound his left one in her hair and curled the other around her back only to latch onto and take possessive hold of her right breast, splaying his fingers across the glistening, moist globe.  


As their bodies danced together, a seamless match, the pediatrics nurse finally felt as if she found a place she truly belonged. She simply _fit_ with the man beneath her, her every quirk and seemingly unique nuance perfectly complimented by one of his own. And their love making was the same exact way. Their bodies were attuned to the others, instinctively knowing what the other would want before they could even realize it themselves. All too quickly but never soon enough, with one last crash of their interlocked hips, Johnny and Nadine fell under the waves of gratification their mutual releases granted, panting and gasping for control and breath in harmony afterwards.

Rolling them over so that he was spooned up behind her back, the brunette held her in his arms, one resting high between her breasts and the other dangerously low on her abdomen. As they both relaxed, eventually falling back under the spells of their pre-orgasm apathy, his fingers continued to softly caress her, willing Nadine to sleep. Despite the fact that her eyes were closed and she wasn't facing him, she could feel his smile and knew he was just as content, just as pleased as she was.

"Not so awake anymore, are you?"

The laughter was evident in his voice, as was the barely concealed male pride and conceit, but she was too delightfully exhausted to tease him about it. Instead, she just sighed, smiled, and curled herself even tighter into Johnny's embrace.

Within moments, they had both fallen asleep in each other's arms.

**5.**

Noises coming from the hall gallingly roused Nadine from the most pleasant slumber she had managed to have in months, perhaps, even, years. Angling her head to look at the man snoring softly behind her, she noticed that he had not even budged since they first fell asleep, but she couldn't be mad at his typical, male behavior. Not only was Johnny adorable when he was asleep, but she felt a sense of deep, feminine pride that _she _had exhausted him so thoroughly.

There was no knock at the door, but she thought she heard a man, it was definitely a man, announce that he was the manager before coming in. Thankfully, they had had the foresight of mind to cover themselves earlier after making love, but she was still annoyed that the motel's supervisor felt he had the right to barge into their room without more warning. But there was no time for indignation or wrath, because, before she could even formulate a biting remark towards the discourteous man, a gunshot erupted in the small, dilapidated room, and chaos broke out.

Blindly reaching for Johnny's gun that was situated on the nightstand, Nadine simply reacted out of instinct. They were under attack, she wanted to survive, and, like she had told the man beside her the first day they were on the run, she would do whatever she had to in order to make sure that she lived. Opening fire, she pulled the trigger until there were no more bullets left, only lifting her eyes when the gun was empty.  


She had gone to sleep living in her own, private dream, only to wake up in someone else's horrific nightmare.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four**

**1.**

Winter sucked.

As Nadine clumsily lumbered down the nearly empty hallways of General Hospital, her layers upon layers of insulating clothing making her movements awkward and inelegant, she grumbled to herself under her breath. She had always hated the cold and gloomy days of December, January, and February, and, though March could often times be just as depressing weather wise, there was, at least, the hope of spring looming ahead. What was supposed to be a season of renewal, of replenishment, for the upcoming year, for the young nurse, the dormant weather seemed to have the opposite effect, stripping her of her energy and dampening her usually cheerful mood.

Growing up in Southern Ohio, she was well used to snow storms, but her childhood loathing of snow, sleet, and ice did nothing to prepare her for life in upstate New York. Sometimes, Nadine found herself wondering if her older sister had picked the town of Port Charles simply for its rather lengthy and bitter winters, as if she had been able to predict exactly what her actions would lead to and how, eventually, her younger and only sibling would join her in the riverside hamlet. But then she'd be forced to admit that not even Jolene was vindictive enough to wish bad weather upon her, and she was left cursing both fate and Mother Nature.

Reaching her destination, the blonde lifted up a hand to carefully yet efficiently unwrap her lengthy scarf, folding it once she was finished. Pushing open the hospital door, she was confronted with a wide awake Abby sitting up in bed instead of the peacefully sleeping teenager she had been expecting. The cancer patient, though, did seem surprised to see her, happily so, and that brought a matching smile to her own face.

"What are you doing here?"

"I think the more appropriate question would be," Nadine shifted, ignoring her friend's inquiry as she continued to undress from her winter garb. "Why are you up so early? The sun's not even up yet."

"Astute observation, Nurse Nadine," the bald fifteen year old snarked good-naturedly. "As for why I'm awake, I couldn't sleep. This place is too damn quiet at night. It makes me feel like I'm already dead, and I'd like to avoid that feeling for as long as possible."

Rather than dwell on the morbid thoughts, the older of the two women redirected the conversation, shrugging out of her coat as she hung it on the chair that perpetually sat next to the patient's bed. "So, then, what do you do all night when you're not sleeping?"

Without embarrassment or awkwardness, Abby replied, "I watch the Home Shopping Network. It's oddly addicting after several hours of viewing."

"And do you purchase anything?"

"I wish," the teen replied, sounding slightly exasperated. "However, my parents refuse to give me their credit cards. I, personally, don't see what the big deal would be. Let a girl enjoy some retail therapy during her last few days in the land of the living. It's just money."

Apparently, her friend was even more cantankerous and blunt when operating under little to no sleep. "And, if you were allowed to buy things, what would you do with them?"

"Give them away," the teenager answered without delay. Scoffing, she teased, "what use would I have for that junk? The only place I'm going the next time I leave this hospital room is to the morgue."

"Abby…"

"Alright, no more dying jokes," the terminal patient promised. "Now, back to my original question: what brings you by so early? Tit for tat, Nadine. I told you what you wanted to know. Now, return the favor."

"There's supposed to be a pretty wicked storm blowing in this evening, so I switched shifts so I could get out of here before it hit. I certainly don't need to get stranded on the road in the middle of a blizzard, and, this way," she added, grinning at her friend, "I can also continue the story for you. Now, refresh my memory," the blonde teased, feigning confusion and forgetfulness. "Where exactly did we leave off last night?"

"Do not try that with me," the fifteen year old threatened, narrowing her steady gaze. "You know exactly where you stopped, and I'm convinced you did it on purpose."

And she had, too. If nothing else, Abby seemed to be completely engrossed in the tale she was telling her, so, if for no other reason than to want to hear the next part, Nadine could get her to hold on just one more day to find out what happened next, she would continue to leave her with cliffhangers.

Recapturing her attention, the younger girl continued. "You had just finished telling me about your rather short lived stint as Annie Oakley before you upped and stopped the story just as it was getting good."

"So, then, I take it you want me to pick up where I left off? No skipping ahead? No censoring? No…"

"Nadine…" This time it was the teen's turn to say her friend's name in a frustrated manner.

"Alright, alright," she relented, smirking while sitting back in her seat to get comfortable. "I'll tell you what you want to know."

**2.**

Whereas just moments before she had been acting with such startling clarity, Nadine was now thrust underneath a hazy sense of disbelief, her own actions veiled and those belonging to the other people in the room just as cloudy with incredulity. It was almost as if she was awake during her own nightmare, trapped and unable to move forward. So, instead of reacting, instead of responding to the hundreds of different stimuli fighting for recognition around her, she remained still, calm, quiet, traumatized into hesitation and uncertainty.

Slowly, though, reality was thrust upon her, shattering the momentary peace of denial she had been existing under for several minutes. She became aware of the fact that, despite the blistering heat of a Southern Texas spring, she was chilled and shivering. She noticed the eeriness of the nearly complete silence cloaking the tiny, neglected motel room, the smell of sulfur in the room, and the almost artistic splattering of crimson blood against the far, bare wall.

She had taken another human life.

She had taken another human life, and the strange thing was that she felt absolutely no remorse. In fact, the only thing she felt in that bizarrely surreal moment was relief – relief that she was alive, relief that she had possessed the courage to stand up for herself and defend what mattered to her, and relief that Johnny had not been injured in the crossing gunfire.

Turning to face the naked, close to panicking man beside her, she nodded her head just once, the action slow and reassuring, and his wandering hands, hands that were checking for injuries upon her delicate form, stilled almost immediately. Rather than waste the few words she knew she would be able to manage in the coming minutes, Nadine, instead, relied upon their ability to silently communicate with each other, realizing it would take all her remaining strength and resolve to face and confront the other still standing person in the room.

Claudia.

Twisting back around in the bed to lock gazes with the equally as stunned mafia queen, she observed the other woman before her for several tension filled moments before voicing just one question, one word that she needed answered. "Why?"

The raven haired beauty laughed nervously, the smile illuminating her pale face a startling fake. "I'm not the one who just shot someone here. Maybe you should ask yourself…"

"Now is not the time to be flip, Miss Zacchara."

"You just unloaded my baby brother's fucking gun in my direction," the older woman returned vehemently. "I think you can call me by my first name."

"Alright, then, _Claudia_, why did you have to do this," Nadine wondered out loud. "Why did you automatically have to jump to murder plans? Instead of coming to me, instead of 

talking to me like a rational, levelheaded adult…"

Interrupting, Johnny's sister interjected. "This isn't like someone stole the cookies from the cookie jar; we're dealing with the fact that a little, innocent boy was shot and that he's now in a permanent coma."

"And, now," the blonde returned, glaring at her verbal opponent, "a person is unnecessarily dead, too, all because you were too stubborn or blind to consider any other option besides violence."

"What," Claudia scoffed, propping her left hand on her cocked hip as the other dangled her gleaming silver weapon lazily, its muzzle directed towards the dirtied carpet of the room. "Am I supposed to believe that you would have accepted my explanation of how Michael Corinthos got shot and kept your perky little mouth shut? I don't think so, Pollyanna."

As the man beside her prepared to speak up on her behalf, the pediatrics specialist stopped him with a gentle touch to his shoulder. "It was an accident, was it not?"

"Yeah, but..."

"There's no but," Nadine contradicted. "The only thing my going to Sonny Corinthos would have caused is more pointless, preventable bloodshed. Telling him that you hired Ian Devlin to shoot him and ended up injuring his son only would have resulted in his coming after your family for revenge."

"And that matters to you why exactly?"

"Putting aside the fact that I'm a medical professional and it's my job to save lives instead of take them, I wouldn't have said anything to Mr. Corinthos solely for Johnny's sake. Several months ago, I was just someone who looked like Lulu Spencer to him, but he still showed me kindness, he still made sure that I was alright when everything around us was turning to chaos. That's not something I could take lightly or forget easily."

The dark haired woman smirked, obviously pleased with the turn of events surrounding them. "Well, that's sweet of you, Nurse Nightingale. I didn't realize Johnny had such a devoted…"

"I wasn't finished yet," Nadine cut Claudia short. Once she had the older woman's sole attention, she continued. "Just because I would have kept your secret before, that does not mean that I'm willing to do so now. You agreed to have me murdered, you helped a man track me down, and you were a willing participant to what Ian had planned, allowing him to come barging into this room, guns blazing. You do realize, don't you, that he could have just as easily hit your brother as I hit him?"

Sickly sweet, the mob boss replied, "well, how was I supposed to know that Johnny would move on so fast from one insipid blonde to another?"  


But she just ignored her, pressing on with or without permission or compliance from her adversary. "So, in exchange for my silence concerning Michael Corinthos' shooting, this is what you're going to do for me. You're going to dispose of Doctor Devlin's body, you're going to clean up this mess and make sure that it never comes back onto either me or Johnny, and you're going to pay back every single person we had to steal from this week while on the run tenfold."

"Yes, because it's going to be so easy for me to track down…"

"Here's a list of the names you'll need to anonymously give donations to," the blonde interposed much to Claudia's chagrin. Standing up from the bed, a sheet wrapped firmly around her naked form, she crossed the room, taking out the neatly printed paper from her dirty pants pocket. Handing it over to Johnny's scowling sister, she sidestepped the dead body pooling blood at her feet before heading into the bathroom, suddenly feeling both the urge for privacy and the need for another shower despite the fact that her hair was still slightly damp from her previous one just a few short hours before. "Oh, and you should probably start now," Nadine offered the advice, tossing it over her shoulder before disappearing into the tiled seclusion of the ensuite. "We might be in the middle of nowhere, but the sounds of gunshots do tend to travel quite easily."

Closing the wooden door behind her, the medical professional leaned heavily against it, thankful for the barrier it provided her with from the main motel room. However, she could still hear the two siblings conversing behind her, and, regardless of the physical and mental exhaustion she was fighting, she still couldn't stop herself from eavesdropping.

"Well, apparently, Florence has some bite behind her bark. Who knew the diminutive girl scout had it in her."

"Not now, Claudia," her traveling companion warned, his tone sharp and tight with barely restrained fury.

"I'm sorry, John," his sister returned sounding completely unapologetic, "but Nurse Naughty has it coming. She shot a man in cold blood."

"No, she shot a man in self defense after you enabled him to come after her. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me," the feisty dark haired woman protested. "I'm not the one who betrayed our family in order to save some insignificant mouse of a girl. Since when do you put strangers above your own sister?"

"Since my sister started targeting innocents."

The silence that stretched between the siblings alerted Nadine to the fact that they had reached a impasse, and she would have been lying to herself if she didn't admit to being 

curious as to who would give in first, who would back down, who would come out of the deadlock as the more dominant member of their malicious and powerful family.

"Clean up _your mess_, and then get the hell out of here, Claudia."

"But John," the leader of the Zacchara organization balked. "Aren't you coming home with me?"

"If you still reside at Crimson Pointe, then it's no longer my home," her friend returned, and the nurse could hear his words causing the older woman to cry. "I'll be returning to Port Charles in a few days, and, when I do, I'll be looking for a new place of residence. In the meantime, don't call me, don't have one of your guards follow me, and, whatever you do, stay the hell away from Nadine."

Evidently, the blonde realized from her convenient listening place behind the bathroom door, despite the fact that Johnny wasn't in charge of his family's estate, he still had the power to control his sister, and she found herself wondering just how far he would take that power in the near future.

**3.**

Leaning back against the windshield of Johnny Zacchara's latest addition to his rather extensive car collection, Nadine realized that she really didn't want to travel the remaining few miles that would take them back into the Port Charles' city limits. Rather, she was perfectly content to remain on the road for the foreseeable future, traveling at whim and at leisure to a new, different place whenever the mood struck them. But it was an unrealistic desire, one she wasn't even going to voice, so, instead, she remained where she was snuggled into her traveling companion's side, quietly watching the stars fade into temporary oblivion as the sun came out that May morning to play.

Seven and a half days before, they had left the little Texan motel, hitched a ride into Galveston with one of his sister's guards, and started their search for transportation. While she had argued that they just fly to their next destination, Johnny had opposed her, insisting they drive there just as they had been all along. So, they had found a local car dealership, not just any dealership, however, but one that specialized in classic, rare cars. Again, they had disagreed on what they should do. While she had maintained that they be practical, thrifty even, the brunette had chuckled at her sensible ideas and proceeded to purchase a 1956 white Ford T-Bird with a vinyl top. Even though she didn't know anything about cars besides how to drive one, even Nadine knew that the car they were sitting on was practically priceless.

And, so, if nothing else, they had, at least, traveled to Las Vegas in style, stopping there for just one night before making their way to New York. But she had been in no hurry. After having missed several days of work, at that point, before they left Texas without phoning into her supervisor to call off, the nurse wasn't too concerned about making it back home to return to her job. If she rushed back to General Hospital or not, she was still going to, in all likelihood, get fired, and who was she to turn down a free trip to Sin City? She had always 

wanted to go there, and traveling in a car that made her feel like a glamorous movie star, despite their rather drab physical appearances, was a hell of a way to get around. It was an experience to embrace, one that would provide her with a story, someday, to share with her grandchildren.

But, now, a week later, the adventure – or, at any rate, the road trip part of it – was over, and she was about to return to life as she knew it, slightly more grown up and head over heels in love with a man that would probably only bring her eventual heartache. However, she didn't care. With no family, few friends, and a crumbling career, she had, really, nothing to lose, so Nadine had decided to jump feet first into a relationship with the heir apparent to the Zacchara fortune, legacy, and crime syndicate, consequences be damned. Besides, she had never been one to deny her emotions anyway and, to attempt to when, for the first time in her life, she was finally realizing what it was like to truly feel, would have been impossible.

Sighing, she shuddered in the cool, early morning breeze, burrowing herself even deeper into Johnny's embrace. She felt him link the fingers of their left hands together, squeezing her palm just slightly in a reassuring and comforting gesture of both understanding and concurrence before letting go and sitting up to lean and look down over her still lounging form.

"We have to go," the blonde surmised, struggling to sit up in dejection only to be playfully pushed back down against the beautiful car.

"Not yet," he reassured her.

Exerting himself awkwardly to pillage his own right front pants pocket, Nadine observed the man beside her with obvious curiosity. It was clear that, whatever he was looking for, Johnny desperately wanted it, and, when he pulled out a spectacular, dramatic ring, she gasped in surprise, especially when he reached for her hand to place the gorgeous piece of expensive jewelry on her left, ring finger.

"This was my mother's," he shared with her while slipping the emerald onto her lean digit. "My father gave it to her when he proposed, and she never took it off, not even when she would work in her rose garden."

Breathless, nervous, and rambling, the pediatrics specialist asked, "and you're giving it to me – a priceless, perhaps even one of a kind piece of jewelry that you just so happened to be carrying around with you while on the run from your, no offense, scary sister and her psychopathic friend?"

"From the day my mother died, I haven't gone anywhere without this ring. My father threw everything she owned away – her clothes, her pictures, even her favorite books. The only mementos he kept of hers were her roses, and I kept this ring, and, seeing as how I have every intention of keeping you just as close to me as I did my mother's most treasured 

piece of jewelry, I figured it'd be safe with you. Besides," Johnny added with a merry twinkle to his deep, chocolate eyes. "My mother would want my wife to wear it."

**4.**

"Of course, _you _had to stop the story there."

Nadine frowned, tilting her head to the side to scowl playfully at her much younger friend. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You always manage to get to a good part right before you have to leave." Pouting, the teenager pointed out, "you know, it's not very nice to leave a living dead girl in suspense. It's bad for the ticker."

"Your ticker is just fine," she returned the banter, standing up to gather her various winter weather accoutrements. "It's your brain that I'm worried about. And, besides," the nurse pointed out, propping one closed fist on her angled hip, "so far, just where exactly in this story have you been ready and bored enough to take a break?"

"I give you a ten on the argument but a two on the delivery."

"You're such a brat."

"But you love me anyway," Abby mocked in a singsong voice. Turning around to leave the private hospital room, the blonde stopped in her tracks when the terminal patient demanded, "wait, before you go, can't you at least tell me what the wedding was like?"

Without pivoting to face the fifteen year old, she answered, "it was like any other Vegas ceremony – rushed, performed by some justice of the peace in an Elvis costume, and flashy. The only thing we didn't do that most other couples do is get drunk before saying our vows."

"And did you, by chance, have this beautiful display of matrimonial bliss recorded for posterity?"

"Ha," Nadine scoffed, laughing at the thought. "Don't you wish."

"As will you someday when you have nothing to show your kids," the younger girl responded. "Whether it was tacky or not, it was still your only wedding… well, hopefully, your only wedding."

"Abby!"

"Oh, come on," the bald patient protested, slapping her flat palms against the soft fabric of her sheet clad mattress for emphasis. "You and I both know that almost fifty percent of all marriages today fail and end in divorce. It's just a statement of fact as far as relationships go."  


Rolling her eyes towards the ceiling, the nurse asked partly in exasperation and partly in astonishment, "how do you know this kind of stuff?"

"Easy-breezy, McCheesy. You'd be surprised what a girl can learn from late night television. It's quite fascinating sometimes."

Chuckling, Nadine replied, "I'll take your word for it," before opening the hospital room's door.

As she was about to leave, she could hear the fifteen year old querying, "are you coming back during your lunch break?"

"No, I have a checkup this afternoon."

"And, because of the storm, I won't see you tonight either," Abby finished for her. "Instead of giving me something to look forward to, to live for, you're going to go home so your husband can keep you warm."

"Nice and toasty," the pediatrics specialist agreed, allowing the door to fall shut behind her as she departed from her friend's presence.

Despite the fact that it was still not, technically, the morning yet, for the sun had yet to rise, the Port Charles skyline was starting to lighten in hue, and the hospital was, now, a bustling whirlwind of activity. Orderlies were delivering breakfasts, nurses were taking vitals, and doctors were checking on their patients. It was just another normal day at General Hospital.

Rounding the corner that would take her back to the elevators so she could go down to her proper floor to clock in, Nadine nearly ran into Abby's oncologist. "Oh, I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, blushing slightly at her scatterbrained and clumsy nature.

"It's quite alright, Nurse Crowell," the physician accepted. "No harm, no foul," he joked before moving to step away from her, but, before he could, the blonde held out a hand and stopped his progression. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I was just wondering if you could give me an update on Abby's condition. I mean, I know it's terminal and that there's not going to be some miracle cure at the eleventh hour, but how much time does she realistically have left?"

"Honestly," the oncologist sighed, removing his glasses to clean the spotless lenses. Everyone employed at the hospital knew it was his one and only anxious habit. "It could be any day now. However, her vitals are always slightly improved after one of your visits, so, whatever you're doing, keep it up. It's helping."

"I will, Doctor," Nadine promised, smiling softly at his advice. "Thank you."

Taking a deep breath, she watched the busy, graying man walk away, taking what he had said to heart. Right then and there, she made herself a promise. For as long as her young friend managed to hold on, she would continue to share with her any and every story she could think of about Johnny. If it helped ease Abby's pain and suffering, if it brought her just a single moment's peace or pleasure, then it would be well worth the time and effort. Resolute, she turned on her heel to make her way towards the elevator, her upcoming shift awaiting her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Five**

**1.**

Returning home from vacation, no matter how unusual the time away was, sucked, but what was worse was begging a heartless megalomaniac for the chance to retain your job.

It wasn't that Nadine didn't believe she should be punished for her actions. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, she had simply taken off on a whim to get married, never even once calling in her absence or telling a coworker that she wouldn't be able to cover her own shifts. She had left the hospital in limbo, short staffed, and, considering the fact that she already had her sister's misdeeds haunting her every step through the hallowed halls of GH, she had needed to walk a fine line and had fallen off of it with no soft mat to catch her underneath.

And maybe her job shouldn't matter to her as much as it did. After all, it wasn't as if she needed a steady income anymore. Johnny had made it quite clear to her that, if she didn't want to work now that she was his wife, that was fine with him, but Nadine knew better. She knew that she'd get bored sitting at home all day, every day, and that, when it came down to the cold hard facts, she actually liked nursing; she liked spending time with her patients. However, that did not mean that she enjoyed the bureaucracy of the hospital, and she sure as hell didn't like Doctor Ford.

Swallowing her pride, though, she followed the senior staff member through the tenth floor halls of General Hospital, dogging his every step as she attempted to defend herself to a man she highly doubted could hear anything but his own ego whispering sweet nothings into his ear. With his back turned to her, she spoke to his retreating form, and, with his hands busy shuffling through an odd assortment of paperwork, she fought an uphill battle of capturing the Chief of Staff's attention.

"Sir, if you could just stop moving for five minutes, so that I could talk to your face."

"This is a hospital, Nurse Crowell," the general practitioner lectured her, "not a tea party. We don't have time for pleasantries, and I do not have time to listen to your litany of excuses."

"They're not excuses," she attempted to correct him. "I would just appreciate the chance to offer you an honest, forthright explanation."

As they rounded the corner and approached the nurses' desk, she could see Epiphany Johnson out of the corner of her, a scowl on the permanently displeased woman's face. "If you were so hell bent on defending yourself and your actions," the supervising nurse harrumphed, "then you should have picked up a phone two weeks ago."

Nadine sighed. Now, not only did she have to deal with Doctor Ford's indifference, but she was also going to have to listen to and do her best to ignore Epiphany's swiftly delivered barbs. She was already off the older woman's Christmas list; there was no reason to 

alienate her further by snapping at a comment that, as far as everyone else involved was concerned, was accurate. Because of the legalities of the situation, she and Johnny, with the sworn cooperation of Claudia, had agreed to keep their real reason behind their impromptu road trip a secret. If anyone was to find out that her life had been in danger, red flags would go up, the authorities would get involved, and that would just make it easier for the cops to discover Ian Devlin's dead body and her connection to his demise – something neither of them wanted to happen.

So, with that in mind, she kept her mouth shut, ignored the senior nurse, and continued to press the Chief of Staff for his attention. "My, well, at the time that we left, he was my friend…"

"I just don't understand this generation's ability to generalize such an important label. You'll call the man who lives on the street corner that you give all your change to you your friend. You'll call your patients your friends, your coworkers, and your superiors. And, then, you'll go and call the man you're sleeping with…"

"Thank you, Nurse Johnson," Doctor Ford interrupted Epiphany. "I do believe that we all see your point. As for you, Miss," he finally addressed the blonde pediatrics specialist, turning around to stare down his nose at her. "It doesn't matter who woke you up or what they meant to you at the time, the point of the matter is that you went out of town without arranging for the proper vacation time."

"But I didn't realize that we'd be gone as long as we were," she defended, satisfied that, at least, that portion of her story was the truth. "What started as a spur of the moment trip, turned into something more than I ever thought possible."

"I would imagine," the elderly black man agreed shrewdly. "You left a single woman and returned married, but that does not excuse the carelessness of which you regarded your job here at General Hospital. Do I need to remind you about all the legal issues we barely survived last year, not to mention the financial burden such incidents put upon this institution?"

"No, Sir."

Once again, the supervising nurse piped up. "But perhaps you need to give her a refresher course on how to dial a telephone."

Nadine took a deep breath, chanting silently to herself that it was only because Epiphany cared about her and her career that she was giving her such a hard time and that, if she was going to remain employed there under the older woman's hawk eye, she would, no doubt, end up enduring so much more. Checking back her emotions, she squared her shoulders, determined to get a simple, uncomplicated answer from the hospital's Chief of Staff once and for all. "Please, Doctor Ford, just tell it to me straight. Are you firing me, and, if so, I'll go down to my locker right now and clean it out."

"No," he answered, moving away from the hub, his face, once again, buried in an even larger mountain of paperwork. "Although I frown deeply upon your actions, you will remain with us here as a nurse. You will not be demoted, and you will not be put on probation. However, I fully expect for this to be the first and the last time you take off without word or consideration for the shifts you are scheduled to work and the people you work with. Is that clear?"

"Of course," she agreed rapidly, nodding her head in accordance at the same time. "May I ask, though, why the leniency?"

Epiphany snorted. "It certainly wasn't at my recommendation."

But no one paid any mind to the wound up nurse. "To be frank, Nurse Crowell, your husband already took care of this matter earlier, and you bothering me about it now is just a waste of both of our times. If you want to know the details, talk to the man you married. And, now, if you'll excuse me, I have a board meeting to attend so we can discuss how to spend the money your husband donated in order for you to retain your position here."

And, with that, the Chief of Staff disappeared down one of the tenth floor's multiple corridors, leaving the pediatrics nurse rather shocked and slightly perturbed. But she had no chance to adjust to the news just leveled upon her, no time to take it in and absorb it, because, before she had an opportunity to even blink, there was a voice at her back, a voice she had really wanted to avoid for, at least, a few years, demanding answers despite the fact that she had no right to do so. Not that the other young woman's lack of propriety or social grace surprised Nadine at all.

"You got married?"

Pivoting around on the balls of her white, utilitarian tennis shoes, the newlywed regarded the visitor before her with barely concealed repugnance. "Yes, I did," she responded, determined to only lie about her relationship with her husband through omission. "However, my shift started a few minutes ago, and there are patients I need to be attending to."

Dropping in her two cents, Epiphany teased, "it's about time you went to work. Just because your husband has money, that does not mean I'm going to expect anything less from you than I would any of my other, less financially comfortable nurses."

"Wait," Lulu called after her, reaching out to grab the hospital employee by the arm. "Have you seen Johnny around anywhere?"

And there it was – the inevitable, unavoidable elephant in the room. Gulping slightly, Nadine parroted, "Johnny?"

"Yeah, you know, Johnny Zacchara," the woman before her clarified as if the medical professional had needed such an explanation. "I was supposed to meet him here this morning, but I can't find him anywhere. You know, it's weird," her spouse's clueless ex went 

on to say, "but Johnny's been out of town recently, too."

Providing commentary for her, her supervisor, with her hands cocked on her hips, sarcastically remarked, "you don't say," but Lulu just ignored the older black woman.

"Talk about a coincidence," the youngest Spencer pressed. "Anyway, I was just wondering if you'd seen him walking around the hallways while you were _begging _Doctor Ford to allow you to keep your job."

Before the pediatrics nurse could even approach the other blonde's questions, Epiphany interrupted, apparently exasperated with the visitor's nosiness. "If you're here to see someone, say your brother who just a few days ago had life saving brain surgery, especially since you've yet to be by his room and the only two people who have routinely stopped in to talk to Mr. Cassadine are his butler and his ex-sister-in-law, then I would recommend that you be on your way. And, if you're not here to see Nikolas, then you need to leave. This is a hospital, Miss Spencer, not a meeting place, so let go of my nurse, back away from my nurses' station, and get your interfering behind onto the next elevator that will take you down to the exit. And don't bother to come back either."

With a patient's chart tucked under her arm, the older woman quickly marched off, leaving one stunned Lulu and one impressed and, suddenly, freed Nadine in her wake. Wasting no time, the newlywed skipped off to attend to her rounds, irritated with her husband for fighting her battles for her and for insisting that he inform his ex of his marriage at the very place she worked at. Why, the next time she saw him…

Well, she'd just have to yell at him, and, then, she'd have to jump his bones. However, the order of her plans was negotiable.

**2.**

Abby let out an impressive whistle. "While Nurse Ratchet is as intimidating and scary as all get out, I have to give her props."

Pausing with her story, the young blonde refocused her attention upon the terminal patient sitting across from her, unprepared for the interruption. "You do?"

"Well, yeah," her friend insisted, laughing shortly at Nadine's evident confusion. "Granted, I don't like the fact that she was picking on you, but you have to admit that you had it coming."

The nurse shrugged, neither disagreeing nor taking offense with the teen's announcement. "I know. That's why I did my best that day to hold my tongue. I knew that I was in the wrong, and no matter how frustrating Epiphany's comments towards me were, she had a right to say them, especially since she was the one who had to pick up most of the slack my absence created. However, I'm not sure why you're applauding her actions."

"Oh, come on," the younger of the two girls defended. "You can't seriously be telling me 

that you weren't appreciative of her putting Loco in her place."

"Loco?"

The bald cancer patient rolled her eyes, waving a painted hand in flippant dismissal. "Loco – Lulu, they're practically the same thing. If someone is crazy enough to allow their parents to call them Lulu…"

"Like she was capable of voicing an opinion when she was born," Nadine found herself standing up the other woman.

But the fifteen year old would hear none of it. "Please," she scoffed. "It takes like twenty bucks, five minutes, and few signatures to go down to the courthouse and legally change your name. I had a friend who looked into it once because she had these really old, really weird parents, and they actually thought it was a good idea to name her Gertrude." Shuddering at the very idea, Abby pressed on. "Anyway, my point is that ScrewLoose Spencer could have done something about her name, too, but she didn't, so I can hold her accountable for that horrendous moniker if I want to."

"Actually, Lulu is just a nickname."

"And your point is what exactly," her friend questioned. "Submitting to such an asinine pet name is just as dim-witted as allowing someone to put Lulu on your birth certificate. But, for shits and giggles, why don't you tell me what her real name is anyway."

"It's Leslie Lu," the pediatrics nurse answered, laughing despite herself when the teen made mock gagging noises. "Oh, would you stop already. I don't see why you hate her so much that you make fun of her incessantly."

"And would you stop being such a goody-goody-gumdrop," the younger of the two girls returned just as quickly. "She's the cheap hussy who wanted your husband, and, here you are, shielding her from little ol' me. What gives?"

"First of all, if anyone is a cheap hussy here, it's me," Nadine contradicted. "After all, she was still, technically, involved with Johnny when we…"

"When you did the horizontal mambo," Abby submitted helpfully.

"Exactly," she agreed. "And, technically, they were also still involved when Johnny married me."

"Okay, but I still don't see how that makes you a whore. From what you've told me, you didn't set out to take Johnny away from Loco; it just happened, and I don't think he would have let anything go down between the two of you if he honestly had deep feelings for her. As for my automatic hatred of the _other woman_, you're my friend, so, no matter what, you're in the right as far as I'm concerned, and, in your story, I didn't like how ScrewLoose 

just came up to you, demanding answers and insinuating herself into your conversation despite the fact that the two of you hardly knew each other at that point. That's why I hate on her so much, and that's why, for the very first time since I met Nurse Johnson, I can think of her without feeling an urge to salute her."

Holding up her hands in artificial defense, the nurse stated, "you have the right to feel anyway you want to about Lulu. However, I also think it's necessary to reiterate the fact that she was not in the wrong here. She was cheated on, she was made a fool of, and she was, eventually, publically humiliated."

"Yeah, but, at least, you weren't the one who had to tell her about marrying Johnny," Abby replied, visibly relieved for her friend. "That would have been scary as hell, confronting Loco with the news of her boyfriend's nuptials to another woman. While I know nothing about what she looks life other than the fact that she's also blonde and blue eyed, I have this vision of a cartoon villain with steam blowing out of every orifice on their face, eyes all bugged out, nose flared, foam bubbling out of their lips."

Despite her best intentions, and despite the fact that she knew she should be setting a better example for the teenager, Nadine started to giggle. "That's actually a pretty close estimation of what she really looked like."

"NO!"

Holding one hand over her mouth and the other low on her belly, the pediatrics nurse continued to express amusement, striving to be quiet so that they wouldn't get in trouble if someone walked past the room but failing miserably. "When it happened, I was actually pretty scared that she was just going to go off and hit me, but, looking back at it now, I really wish I had had a camera on me."

Abby brightened noticeably with her next thought. "So, then, you were there when Johnny told her about your Vegas nuptials."

"Not exactly," the blonde hedged, her laughter being replaced by a silent, mischievous mirth as she left the cancer patient to squirm in the wind with her impatient guesses.

"Well, then, he must have given you a pretty accurate description of events afterwards for you to have such a clear visual in mind."

"If you wouldn't have interrupted me five minutes ago, you'd already know what happened."

"Oh, now, that's just not fair," her younger friend protested, offering Nadine a playful glare. When the medical professional remained silent, however, she urged her on. "Don't just sit there, clacking your ever present knitting needles together; start talking. Speak, Rover, speak!"

"You compare me to a dog and then expect me to just perform on command. I'm not sure that I'm liking the direction in which this relationship is progressing in."

"If you don't tell me what happens next right now, then I'm going to page Nurse Ratchet in here, and you know she'll tell me simply to keep me calm and relaxed, and, if anyone will know all the gory details, it'll be her, so either start spilling or vacate the chair, because, soon, I'm going to have a new storyteller."

"Alright, alright," the blonde relented, smiling indulgently towards the terminal patient. "So, this is what happened next. Do you remember how I mentioned before that Johnny was meeting Lulu at the hospital to tell her about us? Well, that was the truth, but he was also there to…"

**3.**

"Hey, you."

She nearly jumped out of her own skin when she felt her husband's arms snake around her waist, pulling her back against him despite the fact that she was, in that moment, writing notes in a patient's chart. And she visibly trembled when his two seemingly placid words washed over her exposed neck, sending chills racing throughout her body as each singular one fought to capture her awareness. The sweet, romantic gesture was entirely inappropriate for the hospital, the place that she worked, and maybe that was why it felt so damn good.

But she was mad at Johnny, she tried to remind herself, remembering every discomforting moment from earlier that morning when she spoke with Doctor Ford and how she had felt so disconcerted after learning of the fact that her newly made spouse had paid off the hospital board in order for her to receive leniency when it came to her job. And, in recalling her resentment with the man holding her in his embrace, she tensed, the previous, initial sensations of responsiveness his touch had inspired fleeing rapidly only to be replaced with strain.

"What's wrong," the brunette immediately asked her, spinning her around in his arms so he could look down into her face. Without waiting for her to reply, he smirked, his lips, lips she already knew so well, curling them into a feral grin. "You know, if this is what working here does to you – makes you all stressed and on edge, maybe you should look into private care nursing."

Tilting her head to the side, Nadine took a step back, unprepared for the mob heir's tender concern when just seconds before he had fairly been propositioning her right in a very public hallway of General Hospital. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, of course," her husband replied straight away, not even needing a moment to contemplate his response. "In fact, I know this guy, and, well, he gets hurt, seriously hurt, a lot. Gun shots wounds, knifings, hell, he's even been in a few explosions."

She should have known. Pursing her mouth in irritation, the pediatrics specialist prepared to give the man before a taste of his own medicine. If he wanted to play games, then she was more than capable, even happy, to oblige. "Do you really think that Jason Morgan would even consider hiring a private nurse, let alone me – your wife? I mean, sure, I've heard about how _accident prone_ he can be, but I just thought that Eliz…"

Before she could finish her statement, Johnny had her roughly, playfully pulled up against him, her thin scrubs doing very little to protect her body from reacting or from concealing her responses from him, and, in a low, mischievously dangerous tone, he chastised her, "that's not funny at all, Mrs. Zacchara."

"Not even a little?"

"You are never going to be Jason Morgan's private nurse, not because he's my rival, and not because he's single…"

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that," the petite blonde challenged, a knowing twinkle making her light blue eyes dance tauntingly. After all, it wasn't everyday that she managed to be informed of something her spouse wasn't.

But he seemed to ignore her, choosing to, instead, march on with his assertion. "… But because you're my wife, and the only person you're going to be taking care of in private is me. And I'm talking about some major dedication on your part – sponge baths, deep tissue massages, physical therapy…"

Interrupting him, Nadine stated, "I wouldn't be too sure of that if I were you."

"Really? And why not?"

"Well, for one," the medical professional reasoned, listing her grounds for argument off on her thin, delicate fingers. "It's against hospital policy for nurses to moonlight with their services anywhere else."

"Even in the privacy of one's own bedroom," the future mob boss wanted to know. "So, you're telling me that if I was laying beside you in bed, bleeding to death, you'd get in trouble, potentially lose your job, for saving my life?"

She disregarded him. "Secondly, even if I wanted to overlook that ridiculous rule, I don't think I would for you." Watching as her husband folded his arms across his chest in a demanding manner, obviously signaling for her to explain herself, she smiled in triumph. It had only taken them several minutes of dancing and flirting around the topic to finally reach the point where she could admit her frustrations with him, but, now that they were there, she was prepared to enjoy the moment. "What did you think you were doing when you went to Doctor Ford this morning, before I could even speak to him myself, offering up a sizeable donation in exchange for him allowing me to keep my job?"

"I was thinking that it was because of me that you were in the position of perhaps losing your job in the first place and that it wasn't fair to you if that would happen. I was thinking that I would do something nice for my wife. I was thinking that, as your husband, it was my duty to protect you. I was thinking that one way or another I was going to make damn sure that you didn't get fired, and, if this hospital needed some more funding, then why not kill two birds with one stone? And I was thinking," he slowed down his words, a poised, smug grin illuminating his handsome face, "that a peacock who sits on his tail is just another turkey, and I'm sure as hell not some goddamned Thanksgiving dinner."

"That is not fair."

Holding up his hands in mock defense, the brunette feigned off her accusations of unscrupulous quarreling tactics. "Hey, you're not the only one who can use your Aunt Rayleen's sagacious adages. Now that we're married, they're half mine, too."

"But, still," she defended petulantly, slightly pouting. "You know I can't argue with the woman who raised me… especially since she's dead. That was a low blow, Zacchara."

He approached her again, fairly sauntering across the few steps that separated them, only stopping when he could touch her. Lifting her chin so that he could lock his gaze with hers, Johnny returned, "as was you tossing Morgan in my face, so, from where I'm standing, we're even."

"Yeah, well, it's draftier up there. Maybe all that excess ventilation has messed with your head."

Sliding his hand that was on her chin so that it cradled the right side of her face, she watched as her spouse raised his free hand to do the same thing with her left cheek and jaw. Speaking tenderly, he insisted, "listen. I'm telling you here and now that you better get used to me taking care of you. That's what a husband is supposed to do. So, if you're going to be mad at me, you should at least have a good reason." The pediatrics nurse went to protest, but he wouldn't let her. Rather, he simply kept talking, his voice low and husky and doing wickedly distracting things to her determination to stay annoyed with him.

"When I was eleven, I stole one of my father's cars and tried to run away, smashed it into a tree on our property, and then blamed the entire accident on my tutor. The guy barely survived with his life. When I was seventeen, I got a girl pregnant and basically scared her into having an abortion - brought her to the house, introduced her to my father, told her about how he had shot and killed my mother in cold blood because she loved me more than she did him and took the bullet that was intended for me in order to save my life. When I was nineteen, I murdered someone for the first time. Yes, it was in self-defense, but I could have just wounded him, and, instead, I shot to kill. I've lied, cheated, stolen, coveted what wasn't mine, used other people. You name it – if it's a sin, I've done it."

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

And, then, as if the man before her had simply flicked a switch, the seriousness of the moment disappeared only to be, once again, replaced by the more lighthearted side of his dualistic nature. "Well, I figured that, since you were already pissed off at me, I'd might as well just tell you all my faults now, get them out of the way, and, in the process, pretty much guarantee that, when we do get to eventually have makeup sex, it's going to be off the fucking charts."

Nadine couldn't help it. She laughed. Forcing her husband to let go of her face, she leaned it against his shoulder, her amusement making her slight form shake in mirth. She felt his arms come up to wrap around her, but, still, she couldn't stop giggling. In fact, it took him pressing a kiss against her neck to make her lift her head from where it was resting against him, and it took a startled gasp from behind where they were standing, utterly and perfectly lost in each other, for the medical professional to remember that they weren't home alone in the apartment they now shared together but in a very private, very busy metropolitan hospital. Tearing her gaze away from the man's she had married, the nurse looked up to confront the person who had interrupted them, an apology poised on her lips only to dissolve into thin air and never to be delivered.

"Oh my god."

The future of the Zacchara family whirled around to meet his ex, one of his hands blindly reaching for her own. "Lulu…"

"Shut up," the other woman ordered, not even sparing a glance in the brunette's direction as she faced all her attention, all her wrath on her onetime boyfriend's new wife. "You… just twenty minutes ago, I asked you if you had seen him around, and you stood there, saying nothing, and allowed Epiphany to yell at me in your defense."

"At the time, I didn't know that Johnny was here."

"But you knew what he wanted to talk to me about, you knew that, when I asked you about the fact that you got married, the person you had exchanged vows with was the same man I have been dating now for months."

She had promised herself that she would allow her spouse to handle his ex-girlfriend on his own, that she wouldn't interfere or lose her temper with the youngest Spencer. After all, she was theoretically the other woman. No matter how messed up or convoluted their relationship had been, before Johnny saved her life by going on the run with her, he had been involved with Lulu, and it was none of her business how he explained their spontaneous marriage. She trusted her husband, and she had no desire to be one of those possessive, clingy wives. But there was just something about the other blonde's tone that set her nerves to raw, something about her words that sent Nadine's temper to blazing temperatures, and it didn't help the matter that she still resented Lulu for the selfish, inconsiderate way she had treated Johnny while they were dating in the first place.

"You mean dating him _off and on _for months," the medical professional returned bitingly. 

"After all, this whole town knows how you wafted back and forth between Johnny and Logan Hayes, how you couldn't make up your mind, played them both off of each other, used them both to glorify your own already absurdly inflated ego. In fact, if I remember correctly, the night that Johnny and I got reacquainted with each other, you attended the opening of The Haunted Star with your _other_ boyfriend, technically making _my husband _a free man, at the time, to date… and marry… anyone he saw fit. So, don't come in here, interrupting what was a private conversation, and try to act as if you are the wronged party. I refuse to play those games."

Taking a deep breath, she let go of Johnny's hand, grinning secretively to herself at the stunned yet impressed look upon his attractive face. Kissing his cheek before quietly excusing herself from the tension filled corridor, Nadine breathed a sigh of relief. While she had never been one to enjoy heated altercations, for the first time in her life, it felt good to say what was on her mind, holding nothing back. Despite the fact that she was embarrassed for losing her temper and allowing the other woman to push her buttons, she did not regret sticking up for and defending her husband. However, she did lament fighting his battle with Lulu Spencer for him, especially since she had just gotten through admonishing him for doing the same exact thing with Doctor Ford on her behalf. It was something she was going to have to apologize for to the man she married, so, for the time being, the makeup sex he had been looking forward to so much would just have to wait.

**4.**

She was sweaty, dusty, and disgusting, and all she really wanted to do was to take a nice, long, relaxing bubble bath, preferably scented, to wash away all the grime and stench she had managed to incur while rearranging the entire apartment. Somewhere between retracting a nine year old little boy's chest cavity for open heart surgery and helping Doctor Julian stitch him back up, Nadine had come to the conclusion that, not only did she need to apologize to her husband, but that she also needed to offer him some kind of grand, romantic gesture. Said thought had led to her coming home directly after her shift had ended and tackling the regrettable project of making actual room in the flat she now shared with Johnny for his things, whatever they may be, as a way to show him that she was sorry, that it was not just her home but theirs now, and that he should do whatever he wanted to in order to make himself just as comfortable in the one bedroom rental as she was.

But, of course, nothing was ever quite that simple. Removing her crafts table from the living room and relocating it into the bedroom had only cleared up a few feet of space. So, then, she had set about throwing out things that were really quite unnecessary – an old, ratty chair her Aunt had given her when she went off to college and was keeping only for sentimental value, the end tables that flanked the couch because, if they needed to set something down while they were watching television, they could, instead, use the ottoman, and the antique hat rack she had sitting by the front door more for decoration than actual purpose. Finally satisfied with the amount of space she had managed to clear up, the pediatrics nurse had gone to make dinner only to realize just how messy and dirty the place really was.

And that's when she started cleaning. Even as a child, Nadine had been a fanatical cleaner. 

It wasn't that she couldn't stand clutter or even untidiness. However, once she got started, there was practically no stopping her. She couldn't just pick up and organize any disorder, run the vacuum, and wash the dishes and be satisfied. Rather, she had to clean the entire house from floor to ceiling. Dusting and washing windows, wiping down the walls, scrubbing the carpets. If it could be washed, once she began, she'd wash it. And, that evening, when her new husband arrived home, that's how he found her – hair, face, and arms streaked with grime, on her hands and knees polishing the wooden floors of the living room, totally oblivious to the time, his entrance, or the fact that she had forgotten about dinner and apologizing to the man she was in love with.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing," the blonde answered shortly, glancing up quickly to peer at the future crime boss before her, a perplexed, bewildered expression marring his otherwise unreadable face. "I'm cleaning. This place was practically a sty. I don't know how we were living in it without contracting some kind of infectious, deadly disease."

"It was a little dusty, Nadine. That's it."

"A little dusty," she scoffed, moving her already practically raw hands at an even faster pace against the by now gleaming floors. "We basically had a sandbox in the middle of our apartment."

"And what did you do with the all the missing furniture?"

"Some of it I moved to the bedroom, but most of it I threw out. Oh, except for the hat rack. I gave that to the old lady down the hall who likes to play polka music late at night."

Sarcastically, her brunette spouse remarked, "excellent choice." But she ignored him, too wrapped up in the task at hand to detect his mocking tone. "But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you have the sudden urge to clear out half of the apartment?"

"Oh," the medical professional breathed out, finally realizing what Johnny was getting at. "That."

"Yeah," he chuckled softly, approaching her carefully. "That."

Standing, she tossed the scrub brush into her bucket of soapy, now tepid water. "Well, you see," she began, suddenly feeling nervous and unsure why. Wringing her dainty hands together, she pressed on, determined to share with him her motivations. "I wanted to make you feel more at home here."

"By tossing out half the place?"  


"No," Nadine argued, rolling her eyes. Laughing in an almost self-deprecating manner, she confessed, "I just thought that you might like to have some of your own things around – you know, so we could blend our possessions together to make one house."

"And the cleaning?"

"Well, once I get started, I have a hard time stopping."

"Hm, now that you mention it," her husband teased her, a wicked, impish gleam to his dark eyes. "I have noticed that about you… in other, various aspects of our relationship." She blushed, a deep, ruddy crimson, and, just when she thought that she couldn't become more embarrassed, he pressed on. "However, luckily for the both of us, with my help, you do manage to finish before beginning again."

The blonde nurse went to hit him on the chest, but, before her hand could make contact with his body, she felt him lifting her off the ground after having taken advantage of her temporary distraction. Tossed playfully over his left shoulder, Johnny carried her into their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

"Now, Mrs. Zacchara," he directed, taunted, moving them both into the bathroom. "I think it's time that _we _cleaned you up." And he punctuated his last statement with a sinful little slap to her boxer covered bottom.

Suddenly, apologizing was the very last thing on her debauched, decadent mind.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Just to let you know, I hate boring, goody-goody Nikolas. Badass Nikolas is so much more fun. :P Enjoy!_

Charlynn

**Chapter Six**

**1.**

She really hated judgmental hypocrites. The people she worked with sucked.

Balling up her scrub top, Nadine launched it into her locker, not particularly caring that she'd have to remove the shirt in just a matter of minutes in order to take it home to be washed. Rather, in that moment, all that was important was the satisfaction she received from the physical display of her temper. After bottling it up for eight hours during her shift, she needed the release, and she really wasn't concerned about who could easily walk in and see her in the middle of a temper tantrum. Besides, at that point, she felt entitled to a mini-meltdown.

Apparently, on her first day back from work, other than Epiphany who she expected to say something, everyone had held their tongue, preferring to allow her to think that her marriage would be readily accepted and pretty much ignored. But, oh, was she sadly mistaken. In fact, on her second day back from her trip with Johnny, the polite, concerned, obtrusive comments had started as soon as she walked in the door, and they were still steadily being given.

Patrick Drake – lovably immature and roguish Patrick Drake, had warned her against her husband, citing the fact that, of course, all mobsters were players who cheated on and belittled the women in their lives. While, unlike his fellow doctors and nurses and even orderlies, he wasn't concerned about her physical safety, he had expressed apprehension for her emotional heath, attempting to warn her away from the man she had married. Evidently, while his knowledge on the inner workings of all things mob related was readily available, he had conveniently forgotten the fact that he himself had tried to flirt his way into her pants a time or two during one of his inevitable and frequent breaks from Robin, despite the fact that the two of them, no matter how the baby was conceived, were expecting a child together.

And then there were Leyla and Regina. The two nurses whom she had initially gotten along with the best at General Hospital had expressed their anxiety about her marriage over what were supposed to be congratulatory drinks at Jake's. They questioned if she knew what she was doing, if she was ready to allow a man to support her, if she really wanted to give up her independence, and, when she had reassured them that she wasn't giving up her job or laying down to allow Johnny to simply take care of her like his kept woman, they had just rolled their eyes, patronizingly telling her to 'give it time,' for, obviously, one could not be married to a future mafia don and actually maintain their self-sufficiency. Needless to say, that evening had been Nadine's quickest out on the town since first arriving to the deceptively sleepy little hamlet of Port Charles.

Leo had been next, and, even if she didn't want to admit it to herself initially, he had also been the most sincere. From what she could tell, he hadn't been trying to work his own agenda while talking to her, and he had seemed to genuinely express fear for her due to her new lifestyle at a mobster's moll. The cardiologist had begged her to remember what the 

gunshot victims they tended to day after day in the OR looked like on the operating table, pleading with her to get out before she was his next patient. And, while, granted, he did have some legitimate concerns, it was too late for her to get out. Even if she wanted to, her heart was invested in Johnny Zacchara, and that was something she could not forget or move away from. Plus, there were no guarantees in life, especially living in such a crime filled town. She could just as easily get shot on her morning jog while simply a nobody nurse as she could accompanying her new husband out to dinner one night.

There had been others, too, many, many others. Kelly had sat her down and attempted to have a serious discussion on whether or not she was ready to just have one sexual partner for the rest of her life. Despite the fact that the OB-GYN was a recovering sex addict, the idea of a lifetime of monogamy still scared her speechless, and she had been distressed for her new friend upon hearing the belated news of her nuptials. Cassius had questioned her about why she and Johnny had been in such a rush, and then Robin had quizzed her tirelessly for nearly an hour the night before about what she saw in her future and if she really was prepared to someday welcome children into the world where their father would be a ruthless, immoral killer. On and on and on the inappropriate inquiries went.

Frankly, she was sick of their intrusion upon her life, sick of their patronizing suggestions and anxiety on her behalf, and she was beyond disgusted with the people she worked with and, at one time, called her friends. The young nurse and newlywed had no idea what made everyone feel entitled to offer her their opinion upon her life, but, whatever the reason, she was either going to have to find a way to put a stop to their condescending comments or she was going to have to transfer to another, nearby hospital. Not even a week had gone past since she had returned to town after eloping, and, already, the stress was getting to her. It made her feel drained and exhausted, irritable, and, for some unknown reason, it was giving her heartburn so painful, tears would threaten to spill from her bright, blue eyes.

Sighing in dejection, Nadine collapsed onto the bench behind her, unmindful of the fact that she was only dressed in a thin camisole and her scrub pants. She couldn't feel the chill of the hospital air conditioning, and, even if she did, she didn't have the energy to be troubled. Hearing the door open behind her, she glowered, just knowing that it was another disapproving do-gooder coming to tell her just how big of a fool she was for marrying Anthony Zacchara's son, how big of a mistake it was for her to get involved with Claudia Zacchara's little brother, and, after days of letting the comments just roll off her back uncontested, she was ready to fight back.

"Don't even start with me," she warned unseeing, not bothering to turn around to find out who was now standing behind her. "Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it, and, chances are, I already have, so don't bother wasting your breath." Preparing to list off the various charges against her husband, the pediatrics specialist lifted a petite hand. "Johnny will cheat on me, because, of course, men who are allegedly in the mafia are incapable of being faithful. Thank you for that stigma, Sonny Corinthos. Do I really want to become some guy's kept woman, and, if I do, do I really want to be a firing range target for hired hitmen? And, then, don't forget the fact that I'll willingly be signing myself up for monogamy, and who would want to do that, right?"  


There was a soft rumble of laughter behind her, and the young blonde whirled around to find a very amused yet still sympathetic Elizabeth Webber staring down at her. "I take it Kelly cornered you?"

"Among _so_ many others."

Moving around the bench, the mother of two prepared to sit down but paused, lifting her eyes to meet Nadine's. "Do you mind if…"

"Oh, no, please," she invited, pushing her own stuff aside so that the brunette could join her. "As long as you're not here to tell me what a terrible mistake I've made, then I don't care if you sit on my lap."

Her companion chuckled again before surprising the newly married nurse and reaching out to grasp her hand. In a soft voice, Elizabeth asked, "do you love him?"

Unprepared for the question, she stumbled. "I… um… what?"

Once more, her coworker responded with a soft, dignified giggle. "I asked if you were in love with your husband."

"I just… you're the first person to have asked me that," Nadine confessed, slightly awed by how open minded the older woman was being. "But, yeah, I do."

The brunette divorcee shrugged. "Then that's all that matters." Watching her, the pediatrics specialist could see her friend silently ponder something, and, moments later, she realized that she had been contemplating just how much she wanted to say. "I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but I have some experience dealing with men who are in the… _the exporting and importing business_." With just a curious quirk of her brow, the blonde invited the mother of two to continue.

"It's an unbelievably hard life to live in, and it makes what is normally a difficult task – making a relationship work – even more complicated, but, if you love him, and he loves you, and you're together for all the right reasons and not the wrong, all the struggling and all the sacrifices will be worth it. And I don't want to make this about me, because, really, it isn't, but, if you ever need someone to talk to you, if you need a sympathetic ear who won't judge you, I'm here, okay?"

With one last squeeze of her hand, her coworker stood up and began to prepare for her own shift, obviously understanding that Nadine needed a few moments to absorb what she had been told and to accept it, not minding the quiet shared comfortably between them. Several minutes went by that way, Elizabeth changing into her scrubs while she stood to change out of hers, and, by the time the brunette made her way towards the door that would take her back out into the hospital's busy corridors, the newlywed had, once again, found her voice.

"Thanks, Elizabeth," she offered, returning the smile her friend offered her, "for listening, for talking to me like I'm not a senseless child, for keeping an open mind, for, well, for everything."

"You're welcome. And congratulations."

With that, her fellow nurse disappeared, leaving the blonde alone in the locker room once again. Smiling daintily to herself, she gathered her things and threw them into her summer tote, preparing to leave. Refusing to allow anyone to bring her mood back down, she moved through the halls, onto the elevator, and then down to the parking garage, running the older woman's words through her mind over and over again. And, then, suddenly, realization dawned.

She remembered seeing Elizabeth with Jason Morgan on the night of The Black and White Ball. She remembered hearing all the rumblings about them in the hospital, all the gossip about their past together that she had merely dismissed as petty jealousy and the workings of some overactive imaginations. She remembered seeing them together several times since last November, nothing overt or blatant, but, in retrospect, there was an obvious connection there between them. And then she remembered holding Elizabeth's youngest son and how clear and hypnotizing his big, round blue eyes were… eyes just like his very dangerous, very notorious father's.

So, maybe the brunette really did know what it was like to be in her shoes…

**2.**

Pausing in her story long enough to regroup, Nadine was about to move forward to the next incident of note when Abby spoke up, a thoughtful expression on her face, surprising the young nurse.

"You know, I remember Nurse Webber from my days as an outpatient, but I never put two and two together all those months ago when the paternity of her baby was revealed to Port Charles and the world. I knew that there was some woman named Elizabeth Webber who was who involved with Jason Morgan, alleged mob enforcer extraordinaire, but I didn't realize that my nurse was the woman in question."

Paling considerably, the blonde started to panic, dropping her knitting without thought or awareness. She had forgotten just how long her teenage friend had been a patient at General Hospital, she had forgotten just how many of the staff members she knew, and, most alarmingly, she had forgotten that there were just some things she had meant to keep from the cancer patient. Bringing her coworker into the story meant that she was opening herself up to risk. After all, the last thing she needed was for Abby to see Elizabeth wandering through the halls one day and stop her to ask about either the brunette's personal life or her own.

"Would you relax," the bald fifteen year old requested, eyeing her warily. "What's wrong with you anyway?" Waving a tired hand in the nurse's direction, she pointed out, "you're 

breathing like you just ran a mile, you're starting to sweat even though I think that Doctor Ford is too cheap to turn the heat on in this place, and you're as white as my sheets." Suddenly, it appeared as if understanding had emerged for her friend. "Oh my god, is it… Do you need me to…"

"No, I'm fine," Nadine reassured her. "Nothing's wrong. You just… you caught me off guard."

"I caught you off guard," the terminal patient parroted. "How?"

"I guess I just forgot how long you've been getting treatment here."

"Well, I'm glad one of us could," the younger girl remarked dryly, rolling her eyes. "But, still, I don't see why that matters."

Leaning forward, Nadine blindly searched for one of the teen's hands, gripping it tightly between her own two clammy ones. "I need you to do something for me, alright?"

"Sure, whatever you want."

The careless shrug offered to her in nonchalance pressed the pediatrics specialist forward. "No matter what, you can't say anything to Nurse Webber about what I told you."

"Oh, I get it," Abby stated, smiling confidently. "You don't want her to know that you broke her confidence, even if just about everybody in the western world can Google her name and find out all her deepest, darkest secrets. It's cool," the fifteen year old reassured her. "I can keep what I know on the down-low. These lips are sealed tighter than Jessica Simpson's legs before her wedding, that is if you honestly believe she was a virgin and not just trying to snowball her parents and all her teeny-bopper fans."

"It's not just about maintaining the trust Elizabeth and I share with one another, and it's not that I don't trust you, but, if it ever accidentally slipped out to anyone, and not just Elizabeth, that you and I talk about such personal matters, other people might think that you could provide them with some important information, and I wouldn't want you put into a position where you'd either feel uncomfortable or be forced to lie for me."

"I'm in high school," the bed ridden patient teased, chuckling softly. "Or, at least, I once was. Do you honestly think that lying is that big of a deal for me? Hell, there was a point nine months ago where, if I wasn't lying to my parents, we weren't talking at all."

Smirking, Nadine quipped, "comforting. Thanks for sharing that little anecdote with me."

"Hey, that's what friends are for."

"If that's your idea of a functioning relationship," the nurse couldn't help but taunt back, knowing that what she was about to say would be taken for the humorous statement it was 

intended to be and not something that could potentially be hurtful. After all, if nothing else, she and Abby were well past any stages of awkwardness or doubt with each other. "Then it's probably a good thing that you'll never get the chance to date, let alone get married."

"What are you talking about? Elizabeth Taylor should sleep peacefully at night knowing that I'm not actually going to get the chance to break her record. I happen to think that I'd be really good at getting married."

"Getting married, perhaps," the blonde acknowledged, giggling slightly. "But staying married, now that's definitely a horse of a whole different color where you are concerned."

"Who the hell would want to stay married anyway? Where's the fun in that?"

"And I rest my case."

"Whatever," the teen dismissed playfully, sticking her tongue out at her older acquaintance. "Anyway, so, after Elizabeth took your side and proved to you that she was a true friend, did everybody stop hassling you?"

"Yes and no," the pediatrics specialist answered."

"Way to be enigmatic, Nadine."

"Oh, big word for such a little girl," she returned the ribbing, enjoying their back and forth banter. "Has someone been reading the dictionary in their spare time this week?"

"Well, if nothing else, I certainly have the opportunity to, but, for your information, the library cart this place has doesn't contain anything nearly as interesting as the dictionary, so, sadly, no. And, now, if you'd be so kind," Abby prompted her, waving her hands in a manner similar to a symphony conductor. "Please, return to the story, and, if you're really good to me, avoid all words with more than two syllables. I've had my smart moment of the day already. I certainly don't need another one. And, besides," the cancer patient added, needing to get in one last dig. "Seeing as how you're married to a mobster and that you're his glorified piece of arm candy, surely your IQ level has diminished rapidly over the past several months, right?"

Someday, she would make sure that she actually got the last word in during one of their good-natured battles of will.

**3.**

She had just gotten the door closed behind her, the bags of groceries she was carrying in on the kitchen table, when the buzzer sounded, alerting her to the fact that someone was there to see her. Allowing them in without asking for their identity, Nadine waited, fidgeting with display after display of gaudy floral arrangements lining the apartment she now shared with her husband. It was a good thing that she wasn't allergic, because, otherwise, there would be no living in the already cluttered flat, and, believing the person at the door to be just 

another delivery man dropping off yet another congratulatory bouquet of flowers from yet another one of Johnny's associates, she was more concerned with making room for the latest bunch of flowers than paying attention to security measures.

A knock at the door told her that her guest had made their way up the stairs, so she let them in, her back already turned from the entrance as she sought out a lone, clear spot in the main room to put the new array of brightly colored flora. Roses and tulips, gardenias and lilies, hydrangeas and orchids, there was a little bit of every possible bloom imaginable decorating her home, so one more variety wouldn't make too much of a difference at that point.

Laughing softly, she threw up her arms in defeat. "Just put them on the floor I guess. My husband will have to help me make some room later when he gets home."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh," she breathed out, whirling around to face her caller. He was the last person she had been anticipating, but, nevertheless, she was always pleased to see him. Smiling at her friend yet blushing due to embarrassment, somehow she always found a way to make a fool out of herself in front of the man, she humbly apologized and greeted him all in the same breath, ushering him into her flat. "Nikolas, hello. I'm sorry about that. I thought you were a flower delivery man. As you can see for yourself," she showed him the numerous arrangements littering the bright and cheerful room. "They all seem to have a honing device that leads them directly to my apartment these days. Anyway," she rambled on, twisting her hands out in front of her in a nervous gesture. "It's good to see you. I'm surprised that you're up and moving so quickly after your surgery."

"You're aware that I had it then?"

"Oh, yeah," the nurse dismissed his question with a silly shrug of her shoulders. "Epiphany, in her own unique way, told me about it the very first day I was back. I'm sorry that I haven't been by to see you yet, but, after everything that's happened…"

"You mean," the prince interrupted her, advancing several steps towards the petite blonde, "after you went out and married one the men responsible for my fiancée's death?"

This time it was her turn to question him. "What?"

Nikolas laughed then, a humorous, ugly, dark snicker that sent chills down the medical professional's back. "I really don't see how I could make myself any clearer, _Mrs. Zacchara_."

"But Johnny had nothing to do Emily being murdered."

"He didn't," the dark haired man rhetorically contradicted, progressing another foot in her direction, making the pediatrics specialist back up slightly. "Don't be naïve, Nadine! The woman I loved was murdered by the son of a mobster, by a man who was looking to 

revenge his family's demise. Your husband is a part of that world."

"Johnny has never been accused of, let alone arrested upon, charges connected to racketeering."

"So, he already has you spewing forth mendacious verbatim, does he? Is this really the life you want for yourself? Do you really want to be some criminal's whore; do you really want to go around having to defend the man you married to every honest and law abiding citizen you meet?" Scoffing, the member of the Russian royalty challenged, "don't be a fool. Even if Johnny Zacchara wasn't the man holding the rope around Emily's neck, he's just as responsible for her death as Jason Morgan is, as Sonny Corinthos, because they're all the same person when you push aside the fancy lifestyles and the charismatic demeanors. They're thugs, and they kill people for a living, and, by marrying into that illicit existence, you're no better than they are. Is that really what you want for yourself?"

She was quite accustomed to the older man's temper at that point in their relationship, so calmly, gently, the blonde tried to pacify him. "Nikolas, I would never intentionally try to hurt you or dishonor your fiancée's memory. You're my friend, and…"

"Oh, that's rich," he taunted her, smirking cruelly. "You're my friend? Is that what you're telling me? Well, I'm sorry, but I was raised to expect more from people who professed to hold me in such high esteem." His words were fairly sneered in her direction, and, before she realized what she was doing, Nadine was scurrying backwards as quickly as her feet would carry her, the man confronting her advancing towards her just as swiftly. "And I certainly don't appreciate people feigning friendship in order to get close to me, to use me, to trick me into taking their advice."

Reaching out, he grabbed her by the throat with one hand, pinning her to the wall next to the closed door of the apartment. Struggling for traction, for air, for a chance to push away from the irate Prince, the petite nurse kicked her feet out and thrashed her body in any which way she could contort it, but the effort seemed wasted, for the dark haired man was too strong for her to fight off. "Nikolas, please," she begged, the words bursting forth from her mouth in short, desperate pants. "You… you're hurting me."

"Good," he barked, flexing his hand to slam her head back into the plaster. "Maybe now you'll feel just a fraction of the pain that I live with on a daily basis. Not only is the woman I love dead and gone forever, but, because of you, because of the man you married, I was forced to have the surgery that took her away from my mind as well."

"I don't… I don't understand."

"Ian Devlin," the revenge seeking Russian spit out at her. "Before you and Zacchara disappeared together, Good Old Doctor Devlin was supplying me with an experimental drug that was managing the tumor while still allowing me to see Emily, but then he disappeared about the same time that the two of you did, and I know, Nadine." He paused then to shake her roughly. "I just know that your husband had something to do with Ian's vanishing. What 

happened? Did he want to force his way into the pharmaceutical drug market, and, instead of buying into the business, decided to kill for it?"

She could tell that she was going to pass out soon, that the black, hazy relief of unconscious was only seconds away, so, with all the concentration she could muster in her weakened condition, the medical professional decided to beg for mercy one last time. "Please," she whimpered.

"What the hell is going on here," Eric, her guard demanded, muscling his way into the flat. Using his body to tackle Nikolas away from her, the security expert managed to free Nadine from the prince's vice like grip around her neck. Without the older man holding her up, she collapsed onto the ground, involuntarily clutching her bruised and burning throat as she hungrily gulped for air, fighting to maintain her tentative hold on awareness. It was all the effort she could muster. In that moment, it didn't matter that her guard was beating up a man just a week post-op from brain surgery, and it didn't matter that she could hear her husband running down the hallway in his approach to their home; rather, all that mattered was that she could breathe again, and everything else faded mutely to the background.

**4.**

"Oh my god."

She nodded, dutifully. After all, Abby was just hearing the story for the first time, so it was expected she would react in such a strong, disbelieving manner. Plus, if she was completely honest with herself, it was almost gratifying to hear such astonishment from the younger girl's lips, if for no other reason than it validated that Nadine's life was, indeed, exciting. It wasn't that she particularly wanted to live on the edge, but, to know that a fifteen year still found her to be entertaining, well the young romantic in the nurse liked her friend's response.

Several heightened, silent moments passed between them, and, then, finally the cancer patient spoke again. "Oh my god."

"Yeah, I do believe we covered that already." She couldn't help but tease the teen sitting across from her, but, by the frown of disapproval on Abby's face, the pediatrics specialist knew the gesture was not appreciated. So, changing the subject, she stood up, shoving her ubiquitous knitting into a darkly hued tote. "Alright, then, I think that's enough storytelling for this evening. I'll see you again tomorrow, okay?"

"Wait! You can't leave yet."

With a puzzled, buried brow, Nadine asked, "why not?"

"Because you have to tell me what happened, that's why," her friend demanded, the slightest shade of rose tinting her otherwise almost translucent face. "How did Johnny react when he found out what Nikolas did to you? Did the Prince survive, or did your husband have his men take him out to the back forty and put two bullets between his beady, little 

eyes?"

Shaking her head in amusement, the blonde remarked jokingly, "do you remember hearing anything about a famous, Russian prince's death or his mysterious disappearance six months ago?"

"Oh, well, no."

If she didn't know better, she would have thought she detected a note of disappointment in the cancer patient's voice. "Nikolas is very much alive, and, as far as I know, he still very much hates me. I don't recall too much about what happened after Johnny came in, but I remember hearing him yell out to Eric, telling him to let Nikolas go. I think they fought. Verbally," the nurse added when she saw the fifteen year old's face light up with intrigue and anticipation. "Nikolas was made to understand just what exactly would happen to him if he ever approached me again, and, even though we've seen each other in passing a few times around here at the hospital and about town, we haven't spoken since that evening."

Releasing a huff of frustration, the younger of the two women complained, "that seems awfully anti-climatic if you ask me."

"Well, I think Johnny felt bad for him, really. I mean, he had just lost his fiancée, he was recovering from brain surgery, and, other than his son and butler, he was pretty much alone, because his siblings were too busy with their own lives to spend any time with him. Plus, we both knew that Ian had extorted millions of dollars out of him for a bunch of drugs that were never going to work in the first place."

"Damn," Abby sighed dreamily, smirking up at the medical professional. "Not only does the man carry a gun and know how to use it, but he also has great taste in jewelry and cars and is compassionate. Your husband wouldn't happen to have a seventeen year old cousin or anything, would he, because I certainly would not argue with the idea of a mobular boyfriend."

"But you're fifteen."

"And no girl worth her weight in diamonds would ever date a guy younger than her or one that is her same age," the terminal patient remarked candidly. "So, does he?"

"I'm afraid you're out of luck, kid," Nadine answered, walking towards the door as she prepared to leave the hospital for the evening. Pausing, though, briefly to address the teenager once again, she questioned, "you do realize that Johnny's lifestyle isn't all that glamorous or romantic, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course," her friend waved off her concerns, rolling her eyes. "Whatever you say."

Sighing, the pediatrics nurse let herself out of the private room, never once stopping to say goodnight. She was just too preoccupied to do so. There was no way she wanted Abby to 

idealize the mob, and it appeared as though that was exactly what the young girl was doing. It was a problem she was going to face head on; it was a problem she was going to sort out before it could really get out of control. All she needed was a plan.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Seven**

**1.**

The prospect of crushing a young girl's foolish, romantic notions and ideals sucked, and Nadine was not looking forward to it.

But, like most things in life that were unpleasant, she also knew that it was necessary. It was like taxes – a hard pill to swallow but you did it anyway, because, if you didn't, the consequences were too horrid to even consider, and, even though failing to share with Abby the less than perfect aspects of a life with a man entrenched neck high in the mafia wouldn't result in a lengthy jail sentence for the petite nurse, it was wrong to allow her to believe in such fairytales.

A part of her argued that, because her sick friend was dying, what was the big deal? So the teenager would die thinking that the mob lifestyle was quixotic and exciting, beautiful and chivalrous. That certainly wasn't the worst thing in the world, and Nadine certainly wasn't above deceiving the cancer patient if it was what was best for her. However, this one fib was one that she refused to tell, this one line was something that she refused to cross – not necessarily because of the fifteen year old but, rather, because of herself.

It would be so easy for the pediatrics nurse to get caught up in her own story, to allow the romance of it to sweep her up and, from that point on, be lost in that idyllic delusion for the rest of her life. But that was a daydream she couldn't afford to have. Her very welfare and that of those around her depended upon her ability to be realistic when it came to Johnny and their relationship. She needed to be on guard at all times, focused, aware of both her surroundings and the actualities of her life now. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the moment she agreed to keep the secret of little Michael Corinthos' shooting all those months before at The Haunted Star, she had sealed her own fate.

So, cruel or not, she was determined to set the record straight with her teenage friend. Abby needed to hear not only of the sweet portions of her connection with the man she loved, but she also needed to hear the ugly parts as well – about the fear, and the isolation, and the double standards, and the limitations, and Nadine needed to be reminded of them herself as well.

Pushing open the hospital door to the cancer patient's room, she squared her shoulders as if she was going into battle. If she could face down Doctor Ford, Epiphany, Ian Devlin, and Claudia Zacchara, then one frail, balding, and pale fifteen year old had absolutely no chance of getting the best of her. And she had plenty of time to talk that day, too.

Forced into working only half shifts, the blonde's schedule was practically bare, and, for that morning, at least, she was resolute that it would be spent talking to Abby. Seriously. No jokes, no smiles. In fact, she didn't even spare her a casual greeting. Instead, she simply took her usual chair on the usual side of her friend's bed, and, as was her habit, she pulled out her usual knitting to keep her hands busy and distracted from fidgeting while she talked. Without glancing up at the teen, Nadine launched into the various accounts she had 

prepared ahead of time the night before, her tone void of any single ounce of warmth or compassion.

No, for that day, it was simply cold, hard truths… for the both of them.

**2.**

Though it would be her second fall spent in Port Charles, Nadine was still not used to the riverside hamlet's abrupt seasons. In Ohio, the changes had seemed gradual. Winter would fade into spring with increments; summer would take over by degrees. But, in her new home town, she could go to bed one night with snow flurries dotting the wide, intense black sky and wake up to a cheery, sunny day, balmy enough for short sleeves and sandals. And fall's introduction that year had been no different.

Not that she truly minded, necessarily. It was just astonishing, at times. Surreal.

But fall was her favorite time of year, so, when she had rolled over that morning and felt the crisp, refreshing breeze of a September day greeting her, it had been a pleasant surprise. Though the calendar said that it was still, technically, summer, she knew better. The leaves on the trees were starting to change into a multitude of bright colors, and the fresh market produce stands she passed along her way to work had switched out their ripe melons and fresh berries for rich, tart apples, cornstalks, and pumpkins in every size and shape imaginable.

And, to match with the new season, she had dressed appropriately in her favorite pair of worn and faded jeans, their material thinned over time from uncountable washings, the softest, most huggable cashmere sweater she owned, and a pair of spunky yet comfortable ballet flats. Instead of cold cereal or even fruit for breakfast, she had opted for brown sugar sweetened oatmeal, and, even after walking several blocks in weather frosty enough to see one's own breath, she could still feel the warmth from the food radiating out from her stomach.

However, the clothes, and the decorations, and even the holidays – Halloween and Thanksgiving – weren't the reasons why Nadine enjoyed the fall so much, and, as she passed by Sonny Corinthos' coffee house, the delicious smells from inside enticing her to stop momentarily and risk being late for her shift, she was reminded of the true cause for her love of September, October, and November: the drinks.

Between apple cider, appropriately seasoned coffees and teas, and pumpkin flavored cappuccinos, the fall, for the young, blonde nurse, was a bevy of enticing beverages. To her, there was nothing better than a steaming cup of hot cider in the park after a long day's work as the leaves ambled down around her and the children laughed in glee as they buried themselves in the dying foliage. Or, late at night, when the rest of the world seemed to be asleep, there was something almost magical about curling up with a good book and a cup of tea laced generously with ginger, nutmeg, and honey and forgetting the constraints of society that said one should always have eight hours of rest every night.

So, even before her feet came to a complete stop outside the little hole in the wall cafe, the pediatrics specialist knew it had been a flawed, compulsive decision, but, really, she just couldn't help herself. Already running late, she had no time for such foolish notions, especially since stopping to appreciate the scents floating through the bracing air would inevitably lead her inside the coffee shop, towards the counter, and into ordering a cup of something delicious that could be savored during the last few blocks of her commute to work. In the moment where she pushed open the establishment's front door, facing Epiphany's wrath with the after effects of a warm and tasty hot drink flowing through her system was even more appealing than actually getting to the hospital on time, especially if she picked up a cup to go for her supervisor as well.

Hey, she wasn't above using stomach manipulation and bribery if she had to.

Her order had been placed, and she was fairly rocking on her toes with anticipation as she watched the barista top off the sinfully decadent beverage with a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkling of cinnamon when the hair on the back of her neck stood up in awareness and the formerly pleasant chill of the morning air made her shiver. Or, maybe, it wasn't the fall day that brought goosebumps to her skin but the company of the man she was suddenly in, because, without turning around or even acknowledging his presence, Nadine knew that Sonny Corinthos was standing behind her. Just as the weather had changed so abruptly during the night before, so, now, had her mood, and all she wanted to do was run out of the coffee shop as quickly as possible, decaffeinated latte or no decaffeinated latte, and escape from the unexpectedly tense and unpleasant situation. However, she knew it wouldn't be that easy. After becoming involved with Johnny, nothing ever was.

"Toss that drink out," the Cuban don ordered his employee, never even bothering to turn his arctic, coal black eyes upon the younger man.

She was surprised when she heard the barista argue, when he protested by attempting to say that there was nothing wrong with the cup of coffee, but Sonny wouldn't hear what the college student was saying, and he sliced his hands through the air in anger as he was prone to do. Although she had still not managed to turn around to face the crime boss, the blonde nurse could see him out of the corner of her gaze. With her feet riveted to the floor, she promised herself the obstructed view of the irrational man was all that she would see.

"Mrs. _Zacchara_," Sonny pronounced her name as if it was literally poison and physically hurt him to say, "will not be served her. This establishment has standards. We don't serve whores."

She wanted to ask him if that same rule applied to his ex-wife, if he also denied himself service seeing as how she and the rest of the town were well aware of the don's reputation when it came to women, but she bit her tongue – forcefully – to keep silent. It was difficult for her to allow another person to insult her, to walk all over her, to act like a hypocrite in her presence without speaking her peace, but she also knew that talking back to Sonny Corinthos would get her nowhere good. Perhaps a body bag in the GH morgue… if she was lucky, but, in all likelihood, she'd end up at the bottom of the harbor or underneath the 

foundation of one of the numerous warehouses he was always, it seemed, to be building. So, dodging the unstable man, she sidestepped her way towards the door, breathing a sigh of relief when her slightly shaking hand came into contact with the metal handle.

But that's as far as she got.

"You know," the underground lord mused to himself. She could almost hear the derision and snide rolling off of him in waves, similar to those of his cologne. "This could be a trick. _Zacchara _could have sent his little bitch of a wife here, to my place of business, to plant something – a gun for a future shootout, a bomb even. Milo," he barked, calling his personal guard to his side like a mangy dog. "Pat her down."

"What," she gasped out, shocked so terribly that she whirled around to face her husband's self-proclaimed enemy.

But she wasn't the only one to complain. The younger Giambetti brother also had a problem with his employer's demands, and, though he protested in a less forceful fashion than the nurse did, the fact that he was not pleased with Sonny's directive was plain to see. "Boss, I really don't think that's necessary. Nadine… I mean, Mrs. Zacchara… She wouldn't do what you're accusing her of. She and Elizabeth, Miss Webber, they're friends. They go out together, they go shopping, they work together. Hell, she even watches the boys – Cameron _and _Jake. Really, Mr. C., just let her get her coffee and…"

"Do it, Milo."

And with those three words, she knew the pat down was inevitable. Unless Milo wanted to lose his job or, worse, face the wrath of his boss, he was going to have to check her for weapons, so she turned back around to face the coffee shop's entranceway. Biting her lip to keep from crying, she waited for the hulk of a younger man to approach her and simply nodded her head in recognition when he apologized quietly for what he was about to do.

Really, the pat down was innocent. Milo touched her shoulders, her arms, and hurried past her torso and hips to finish his duty with her calves and ankles, but Sonny wasn't satisfied with the half attempt towards humiliation, and, as he yelled at her to spread her legs, she knew he was trying to break her spirits.

"Mr. C…," the younger of the two Giambetti boys objected again on her behalf, but the edgy, brutal silence that followed his outburst was the only response she needed to know that the Cuban don wasn't backing down.

Willing her body to stay as rigid and unaffected as possible, Nadine clenched her eyes shut in defiance, balled her fists together as if she wanted to hit something, and, honestly, she did actually want to hit something, but the impulse would have been suicidal, and braced herself for the degradation to come. Sonny Corinthos could do what he wanted to her, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, of seeing her react at all if she could help it.  


But all her preparation was for naught when nothing happened. Braving a glance, she opened her eyes in time to see Jason Morgan explode. When he had entered or where he had come from in the first place, she didn't really know, but, obviously, the pediatrics specialist realized, there was a back entrance that even the enforcer's boss had temporarily forgotten about in his haste to debase her.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"This slut," the mob boss started to explain himself only to be cut off by his second in command.

"Stop, Sonny. Just stop." Approaching her, Elizabeth's fiancé asked, "are you alright, Nadine?"

"Fine."

She really didn't think that she was capable of more than a one word answer at that point, but the hitman seemed to realize just how not fine she was, and his jaw clamped down even tighter. Turning towards the barista, he asked calmly, "is Mrs. Zacchara's drink ready?"

"Uh… Actually," the college student stumbled through his excuse, blanching in fear. "Mr. Corinthos had me toss it out."

"Make her another one."

"No, really," the blonde nurse spoke up, pausing the employee's actions. "It doesn't matter. I'm late for work already, so I'd just like to leave… if that's alright."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she sighed, already pulling open the door.

"Okay, well, I'll walk you," the enforcer offered, moving to follow her, "you know, to explain to Epiphany…"

Astounding even herself, Nadine smirked in amusement. Sure, that's why he wanted to walk with her – to talk to her supervisor and get her out of trouble like he was her guardian or her parent. She believed him. Honestly, she did, but she also knew that the older blonde wouldn't turn down the chance to see Elizabeth at the hospital either or decline the opportunity to stop in and see the two little boys who had him securely wrapped around their tiny, little pinkies. But, still, she felt that she should protest at least slightly. "Really, Mr. Morgan…"

"Jason," he interrupted her, glaring darkly at his business partner when Sonny started to 

interrupt. The one glance shut the don up without question or delay. "Please."

"Alright, Jason it is, but, no matter what I call you, it's not necessary for you to walk me to work. I can handle Epiphany. I always do."

"But, this time, you shouldn't have to."

Rolling her eyes, she accepted his offer without giving her own compliance voice, and the two of them set off at a companionable pace towards the hospital. While the man beside her had his hands thrust deeply in his jacket's pockets, Nadine fumbled with her purse, nervously running her fingers back and forth along the strap. Before Jason had insisted that he accompany her on the last few blocks to GH, she had hoped that she would be able to get away with not telling Johnny about what had occurred that day at the coffee shop, but her guard, even at the distance he kept away from her, would know that something had happened solely based upon Morgan's presence beside her, and, like he was supposed to, like he was paid to, he would report the incident to his boss. Not even fresh baked cookies would be able to get her out of this mess.

"I'm sorry about what happened back there," the enforcer offered, breaking the silence they had been existing under together quite nicely. Really, she just wanted to forget what had happened at the café.

"Not your fault," the pediatrics specialist replied honestly. "Thanks for the save, though."

"You're welcome, but it still never should have happened in the first place."

"Maybe not, but not even you can control Mr. Corinthos all the time, Mr. Mor… Jason."

He tipped his head in recognition, agreeing with her. "Just the same, though, you might want to find another place to get your coffee."

She couldn't help it. She snorted, even if it was unladylike and her Aunt Rayleen would have disapproved and had a litter of kittens in the face of such poor behavior. "Trust me. The Coffee Shop is the very last place I'll ever step foot in again."

Chuckling softly, the hitman confessed, "just between you and me, Kelly's is better anyway. Plus, they're cheaper."

"Good to know."

"I really am sorry," Jason apologized. Again. "And Johnny…"

"Don't worry," Nadine assured him with a sigh. "I'll handle him."

With that, they both fell silent once again, but it wasn't awkward or forced. It was, though, necessary, for the young nurse to get her thoughts in order and her countenance 

rearranged so that her coworkers wouldn't suspect that anything was wrong. All she had to do was get through the day, and then she could allow what had just occurred to actually sink in and affect her. If she could do that before Johnny came home, then she would be able to calmly and rationally relate the morning's events to the man she lived with, fulfilling her promise to Jason Morgan to handle the junior mob boss.

Really, it was all _quite _simple.

**3.**

September had faded into October, and Nadine could practically taste the fall season in the air. If she had to describe it, it had a nutty flavor, deep and rich, almost masculine, with a touch of bitterness to it, but she had more important things on her mind that afternoon than waxing poetic. Namely, the man she loved.

The morning before, Johnny had left the apartment they shared with a smile on his face despite the fact that he was required at a business meeting in the city all day. As was their habit, they ate breakfast together, and, while she finished getting ready, he had loaded the dishwasher for her. With simple kiss goodbye and a promise to see her that night, he had disappeared from sight, leaving the blonde with a sense of routine. She didn't think twice about him going _to work_, for, after several months of marriage to a Zacchara, she had gotten used to what that _work _entailed, so she had headed off to the hospital without a care on her mind.

Foolishly so, she now realized.

After waiting up for Johnny the night before, barely sleeping at all, she was a preoccupied zombie that afternoon at the hospital. She couldn't focus on her patients, dealing with the doctors was more than her frayed nerves could handle, and even simple chart notations were proving too difficult of a task for the pediatrics specialist. Instead of doing the job she was paid to do, all she could think about were the various reasons why she had been alone in her bed the night before, and none of them were pleasant.

While volleying back and forth between Johnny being already dead, in the process of dying due to injury, or locked up somewhere as some rival's bargaining chip, she found herself doodling over the chart before her, blushing profusely at the insight. Typically she was one of the most collected nurses General Hospital employed. She could set her personal life aside before she stepped through the automatic doors of the emergency room, but, apparently, not even she could forget the fact that the man she loved had been missing for more than 24 hours.

"Nurse Crowell," Epiphany snapped, emphasizing her reprimand by dropping her own armload of charts onto the counter of the nurses' station. "Why are you drawing bunny rabbits all over Mr. Clawson's EKG results?"

Of all the people to catch her daydreaming at work…

"I'm sorry," the younger woman started to apologize only to be cut off.

"I don't care what you are; I care about what you're doing, or, in your case, not doing. Have you gotten anything productive done during your shift today?"

"Well, I…" She started only to stop, fidget, and straighten her scrub top. "You see…" She tried again only to fail at her second attempt at explanation. "It's like this…" Only it wasn't, because there really wasn't anything she could offer as an excuse. At least, not anything that she could tell her supervisor.

_Oh, hey there, Epiphany. Sorry about the lettuce eating critters on Mr. Clawson's chart, but my husband's missing. He could be dead, in fact, for all I know, so, yeah, I guess I am a little bit distracted. But I'm sure you understand, because you've been in love before, and you've been worried about someone you care about before, and you have a heart. Don't you?_

As what she really wanted to say played through her mind like a public service announcement, Nadine clamped her mouth shut just in case a word or two tried to sneak their way past her sealed lips.

"Go home," the older woman ordered, accompanying her instructions with a pointed glower. "And don't bother coming back until you can actually focus on something besides your… _artwork_. While I might be understaffed already, I'd rather have one less nurse on my rotation than one that's too distracted to see three feet in front of her."

And, with that, after dismissing her with as much compassion as she could muster which was, apparently, none, Epiphany Johnson marched off, disgusted with her blonde counterpart.

"Don't listen to her," another voice informed Nadine – a familiar voice, a friendly voice. Turning around to face Elizabeth Webber, the pediatrics specialist smiled, grateful for an understanding audience. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better."

"I realize that you can't tell me anything… for obvious reasons, but, if it's Johnny, just know that I understand. Trust me," the mother of two sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. "Oh, do I understand, and, don't ask me how I know this, because, really, half the time I don't even comprehend it myself, but it'll work out. It always does."

As she went back to her own rounds, Elizabeth concluded her reassurance with a companionable squeeze of the younger woman's hand, disappearing before Nadine even had a chance to respond. Gathering her things quickly, she scooted out of the hub and caught an elevator full of hospital visitors without a single backwards glance. Though she felt bad for leaving her coworkers in the lurch, in her own callous way of putting things, Epiphany was right. She was doing no one any good by pretending to concentrate, and, in 

fact, she was actually just creating more tasks for everyone else by remaining there. Everything would just go smoother if she was at home worrying instead of at GH.

So, that's what she did. She went home, she changed out of her scrubs and into a comfy pair of pajamas, and she started to clean. The rigorous activity was mindless yet exhausting, temporarily distracting her from her fears. By the time the sun set and night had stolen the spotlight from the day, she was bone weary tired, collapsing into bed without even the ambition to wash her face. At that point, she was lucky that she had lasted long enough to brush her teeth before retiring for the evening. Even though Johnny wasn't home yet, her body physically couldn't remain awake any longer. She'd get a few hours of restless sleep, wake up sometime in the middle of the night, and start the whole process of worrying all over again.

Later, and, upon reflection, she wasn't really sure what it was that had jolted her so strongly awake, but, at precisely 2:37 in the morning, Nadine sat up in bed, conscious of the fact that the man she loved was beside her. He was positioned awkwardly but alive, and, in that moment, for the young nurse, that was all that mattered. The anger she had felt the night before when he had failed to call her to say that he would be late evaporated. The cloud of concern and anxiety she had existed under since the prior morning disintegrated into tiny pieces of irrelevant memory. In fact, the only thing she felt in that moment was intense relief and joy, and she wanted to express that.

Raining kisses down upon Johnny's face, she smiled to herself as he struggled to wake up. He teased her about being a heavy sleeper, but, really, it was he who was impossible to stir, but the quirk didn't bother her, for she found it adorably endearing. His brow would wrinkle in consternation while he grumbled incoherently, oftentimes sleep talking about things that made absolutely no sense even to him at a later date when she asked him what he was yammering on about. So, when just the kisses failed to rouse him, she started to undress him, freezing in her attentions when he jerked awake and pulled away from her harshly.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing," the medical professional retorted rhetorically, her voice rising in both volume and pitch with every word she said. "I know it's been a few days, but I hardly think that's long enough for you to forget what your wife trying to make love to you feels like!"

She expected her words to make him feel bad for dismissing her advances, so, when he simply rolled further away from her, she nearly started to cry. Evidently, Johnny saw just how much she was hurt, because he immediately tried to reassure her. "It's not that I don't want to, I just can't."

Disbelieving, she parroted, "you can't?"

"No," the heir to the Zacchara organization reiterated, "but I can explain. Now, don't panic," he insisted before finishing the job she had started and unbuttoning his shirt. "It's not as 

bad as it looks or sounds, but I was stabbed."

The emotionally wounded tears she had been previously holding back fell without censure as soon as she saw the hastily bandaged wound, except, without even a second to transition, they had turned into tears of concern, of empathy, of apology. Without word – not because she was at a loss for what to say but simply because she couldn't find a way to convince her mouth to actually form the sentences, the nurse set to work taking care of the most important patient she had ever tended to, carefully, tenderly, gently administering to her husband's wounds.

She knew that injuries were just another part of what her life as Mrs. John Zacchara would entail, but it was one thing to acknowledge that she'd someday see the man she loved hurt and in pain and another to actually have to confront his suffering. And she hated it. It was worse than everybody and anybody having an opinion about her life and voicing it, it was worse than dealing with such bigots like Sonny Corinthos, and it was far worse than the worry that she had lived through during the past day and half. But it wasn't the first time that Johnny had been injured – the numerous scars marring his otherwise flawless body told her that, and it certainly wouldn't be the last time he was wounded. It was, however, something she was just going to have to get used to.

Someday.

Somehow.

Eventually.

**4.**

She was so excited.

It had been weeks since she had truly hung out with her girlfriends, and, though, she loved her husband dearly, sometimes it was nice to be around others who had estrogen pumping through their bloodstream rather than testosterone. But, while Johnny had been recuperating at home from his stab wound, she had tried to spend as much time with his as possible, simply to make sure that he wasn't over exerting himself… which he was prone to attempting. Three weeks later, though, and the man she lived with was back to his normal, perfectly functioning self, so she had made plans with Elizabeth, Kelly, and Regina to go out to eat and then to a haunted house. While it was slightly ridiculous that four fully grown women were entertaining themselves in such an adolescent way, it had been years since she had done something so carefree, and she couldn't wait.

She was just about ready, too. Despite the October weather, she had dressed to impress. Between work and her scrubs and being at home and simply lounging in the most comfortable outfit she could scrounge up that was clean, it was a rarity that Nadine actually got to dress up, wear makeup, and fix her hair. So, she had gone all out - new, designer jeans, bought especially for that evening, that fit her ass so precisely she was afraid of what might happen after she finished her meal, a fun, flirtatious top that was brightly colored and 

low cut, and a pair of killer, stiletto boots that her feet would be cursing her for the next morning. Her hair was curled, her eye shadow, liner, and mascara were all dark and smoky and mysterious, and she had even managed to find time to paint her nails – a delicious Macintosh red that looked so good she was almost tempted to lick it.

"Before I apologize, just let me say that you look amazing."

Not expecting the man she loved to sneak up on her, the petite nurse gasped in surprise, whirling around in her vanity stool to confront him. She attempted to look perturbed with him, but, really, after that nice of a compliment, it was pretty hard to muster up even an ounce of exasperation. So, instead, she grinned – a full, seductive, debauched smile that was intended to make Johnny weak in the knees, and, when he collapsed against the doorframe, bonelessly, she knew she had succeeded.

Standing up, she crossed the short distance separating them, pausing to wrap her arms around his neck. "And why are you apologizing exactly?"

"Well, apparently, we must have made plans, and I completely forgot about them. But don't worry," he reassured her, untangling himself from her embrace. "Give me fifteen minutes, and I'll be ready. Promise."

He was already through the threshold leading into their bathroom when she spoke up. "No, it's okay. We didn't have any plans."

He popped his head back out to observe her, a curious frown marring his handsome features. "We didn't?" She shook her head no in answer. "Then why are you so dressed up?"

"I'm going out… with the girls from work."

"Oh," he commented before smiling in her direction. "Okay, have fun. Just remember to take your guard with you."

"Actually, I was thinking that I wouldn't this time. I'm going to be in a group," Nadine explained, "so I really don't think I'll be in that much danger. I mean, how much trouble could three nurses and one OB-GYN get into at a haunted house?"

"Knowing you and your friends, a lot," her husband countered knowingly without delay or taunting. "And the answer's no. The guard goes or you stay home."

"Excuse me, but you're not my father," the pediatrics specialist found herself arguing, hands on cocked hips. "I wasn't asking for your permission either. I was telling you."

"Nadine…"

"No," she yelled, backing away from the mob heir. "Don't Nadine me!"

"Why not? It's your name."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," she argued, finding herself getting frustrated and angry when just five minutes before she had been fairly floating with elation and anticipation. And those two emotions – frustration and anger – were never good for her, because, without a proper outlet to express them, she always ended up crying. "Elizabeth doesn't always have a guard with her. Things are calm right now. You've told me that yourself. The fact that you got stabbed was a fluke, and it's been handled."

"Yes, it has."

"So, if Jason isn't making Elizabeth take a guard tonight…"

"He might not have someone obvious on her, but I bet you every last cent in my bank account that he has someone in plain clothes watching out for her. And, besides," Johnny barked, firing back at her in heated retort, "I'm not Morgan. You're taking a guard, and that's final."

"Don't do this," the blonde found herself warning her husband. "Don't give me orders or commands, because you won't like what happens."

"So, what? Are you threatening me now?"

"No, it's not some idyll threat, Johnny; it's a promise. If you push me on this, if you start turning into some Neanderthal chauvinist who thinks that his wife has no common sense and is unable to think for herself, then I'm out of here. This is not what I signed up for when I married you."

"That's it, is it? I either do what you want, allow you to go out tonight without a guard, or you'll leave me? Well, then, I guess you know how this is going to play out. Fine," he agreed, pivoting around so that his back was to her. "Go. Leave. Ignore my wishes, but, if something happens to you…"

He let the words trail off, the threat unvoiced but still just as potent, but Nadine left anyway, slamming the bedroom door behind her. She made it to the hallway outside of their apartment before she started to cry and to her car before her tears turned into frame wracking sobs. It was then, sitting in the driver's side of her little subcompact, that she decided to go back inside and accept her husband's directions to take a guard with her, because, even though she still thought Johnny was being ridiculous and overbearing and egotistical, she wouldn't purposely make him worry about her all evening.

On the other hand, though, she still didn't feel as if her wish to be without a shadow for just one evening was wrong, but she would table the argument for another day, another night, and, hopefully, by then, both she and her spouse would be in a better frame of mind to actually discuss the topic. Until then, though, she would be safe, and she would do what the future crime boss asked of her, her pride be damned.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Eight**

**1.**

Being an adult sometimes sucked.

It wasn't necessarily that she mourned the loss of her childhood. In fact, it was quite the opposite. She enjoyed being an adult, for there were certain advantages to being on one's own and independent, but, sometimes, Nadine had to admit that it would be nice to let go of everything else – all worry, all responsibilities, all pretenses of maturity – and just have fun again like only a kid could.

Lifting both of her legs to curl under her, she remained seated on the bench, the warmth of her own body, the winter clothes she was wearing, and the plastic cup of hot cider she was holding managing to ward off some of the chill present in the air on that particular November day. However, despite the near frozen temperatures, it was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was out, the skies were clear, and it would, in all likelihood, be one of their final chances that year to playing outside, and her companions for the day had insisted that they take advantage of it. So, bundled up even more than she was, Cameron and Jake played on in the fallen leaves, their infectious giggles bringing a wistful smile to the blonde's full lips.

The two Webber – soon to be Morgan – boys were absolutely adorable, and it was rare that she got to spend so much uninterrupted time with them. Even though Elizabeth was still working full time at the hospital, Jason seemed to be trying to make up for more than his year long absence in just a few short months, monopolizing the children he was about to legally declare to the world as his own. But he had business obligations that he couldn't worm his way out of, so as a favor to her friends, she had volunteered to watch the five year old and his precocious little brother, giving the two kids a chance to be outside instead of cooped up in daycare all afternoon.

And it wasn't as if her offer was a hardship or an inconvenience for her either. With a day off from work and an endless amount of free time she had no way of occupying all on her own, babysitting was the second best option she had, falling just shy of the idea of spending the late fall afternoon with the man she loved. Johnny had been busy, though, work, too, apparently, so Cameron and Jake became her temporary partners in crime. After lunch at Kelly's and a good hour of rigorous activity on the swings, the three of them had settled into a more wooded area of the park, an area where both the natural descent of the foliage and the gusting winds had cornered a large pile of dry, crackling leaves perfect for jumping in.

Well, she silently corrected herself with an indulgent smirk, the three of them and their three guards, one Zacchara employee and then two Corinthos-Morgan security experts.

But the men stayed pretty much out of sight, and, if she allowed herself, out of her mind as well. They didn't interfere with her handling of the children, they didn't speak up when she allowed Cameron two slices of chocolate cake for dessert simply because the little imp had smiled at her with his crooked, already frosting covered face, and they didn't pay her any 

mind when she held and lost a staring contest with Jake. The men seemed to realize that she would appreciate their discretion and their distance, and she was determined to remember to thank both of their employers for the considerate gesture.

She was just about to yell out to Cameron and tell him not to pile leaves on his little brother's face when she felt someone sneak up behind her. Already jumping in alarm, she relaxed immediately when she felt the man's laughter ripple over her ultrasensitive neck, his sudden close proximity and the warmth of his breath melting through the layers of clothes she had on to break her skin out in goosebumps. However, they were not of the unpleasantly cold variety.

"Oh, let them play," Johnny teasingly instructed her, coming around the bench to sit down at her side. He immediately pulled her against him, and she snuggled into his embrace quite willingly. "They're just fooling around. If Jake gets scared or uncomfortable, he'll wiggle around until the leaves fall off of him or he'll cry out. You don't have to worry so much."

She wasn't ready to concede yet, though, to his laissez-faire babysitting skills, so the pediatrics specialist argued, "but what if he swallows a leaf?"

"A kid could eat worse," the brunette beside her pointed out with a chuckle. "Besides," he added much to her halfhearted irritation, "we're talking about Jason Morgan's kid. He's only a year and a half, but he's probably already trained and capable of taking me out by the knees, and I'm a full grown man. I'm sure he'll be able to handle his big brother."

And, sure enough, not even ten seconds after Johnny made such a pronouncement, Jake was up and running again, tossing little acorns in his older sibling's direction, giggling freely at his own mischievous behavior. The toddler seemed to have an unlimited supply of the small nuts in his jean's pockets, and the two adults sitting together found themselves both grinning with amusement at his antics.

As the boys continued to chase each other around in childish circles, Nadine turned to her husband and asked, "so, what are you doing here?"

"Got done early," was all he would say in response, in answer. "So, I thought I'd search you out and join you. You know, you're pretty predictable, Mrs. Zacchara. This is the first place I looked, and, sure enough, here you are."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you just called my guard, and he told you where I was."

"That would be cheating, and I only do that in my professional life."

"You're terrible," she practically complimented him, laughing melodiously. Although her friend's two children looked up at the sound of mirth coming from the blonde, they soon went back to playing, having much better things to do than worry about what the adults were doing. But the petite nurse couldn't look away from the man she lived with even if she tried. His eyes, normally a rich, thoughtful chocolate brown were warmer that afternoon, 

almost bronze with amusement and sheer contentment, and, if she didn't know better, she would say that she fell in love with him all over again in that moment. He seemed to sense her revelation, so he grinned cockily, standing up and stripping off his warm, winter jacket.

"Keep that thought until later," he told her, bending down to place a lingering kiss against her mouth, but he pulled away much too quickly in her opinion, and she found herself pouting rather petulantly. In explanation, Johnny offered, "I'm going to go play with the boys, but don't worry," he promised her. "I'll play with you later."

"Do you want me to…?"

Her words trailed off when he gently pushed her back into a sitting position. She had been trying to stand up in an effort to join him, but, apparently, he didn't want her to. "Just stay here," he directed, his left hand lifting to feather across her windblown cheek and jaw. "Relax. Drink your hot cider."

"How did you…?"

Again, he interrupted her. "I could taste it on your lips, on your breath, on your tongue when I kissed you," the mob heir answered. "And I liked it. Maybe we should stop by on the way home and pick up some more. You know, for dessert."

Winking at her, he turned around and jogged off a few steps to where the boys were playing, immediately dropping down to his knees to be on their level, completely unconcerned about the expensive, designer pants he would surely ruin with such actions. As Nadine watched on, perfectly content with just observing her three favorite guys in the whole world mess around together, Jake and Cam ganging up on Johnny to tackle him onto his back so they could proceed to bury him alive in a pile of damp, brown leaves, she realized that her husband's arrival was the whipped cream on top of her piece of pumpkin pie day.

**2.**

"So, Johnny likes kids?"

Remarking flippantly, Nadine commented, "don't all mob bosses?" However, she noticed her younger friend's rather bemused countenance, so she clarified, "Yes, he does, and he's good with them, too. When he's around children, it's like he can forget all the ugliness he's seen throughout his life, and he can just be. It's actually kind of beautiful."

"Isn't everything about the man," the cancer patient returned, winking. When she glowered in the fifteen year old's direction, Abby switched gears. "Do you think he'll be a good father?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

"Okay," the balding teen responded, sounding somewhat stunned. "That's not exactly the 

emphatic, gushing response I was expecting. Care to explain?"

"Well, I've told you about Johnny's father, haven't I?"

"Oh, yeah," her balding companion agreed. "Bat shit crazy Anthony – he was the one who killed his attorney all those months ago on Port Charles' very own version of The Love Boat. Those are some impressive genes you married into, Nadine."

She ignored her friend. "To say that Johnny didn't have a very good parental role model growing up would be an extreme underestimation of just how much damage his father inflicted upon him, but, someway, and I really couldn't tell you how, he was able to move past all the terrible things Anthony did, and he's a better man because of it. He's kind and compassionate, gentle, and I know that he'll be the type of dad who won't put pressures upon his children or push his own failed dreams unto them. He'll allow them to grow up to be individuals, guiding them in the right direction but not forcing his ideas and opinions upon them."

"Cue the doves and pass me a paper bag, because I think I'm going to be sick."

"Hey," the pediatrics specialist challenged, laughing despite herself. "You asked!"

"Yeah, but you could have saved me from all this schmaltzy crap. No one, especially me, wants to listen to you wax poetic about your husband. Stick to the good stuff," Abby instructed her. "The sex, the drugs, and the violence."

"We're getting there."

"Oh," the terminal patient cooed out, sitting up slightly straighter. "That sounds promising. Skip to that part, please."

"Well, at least you said please, but I'm not ready to move forward yet," Nadine informed her. "Just like before, I want you to realize that there is a downside to this whole idea."

"Obviously," her friend returned mockingly. "Kids mean babies, and babies mean dirty diapers, three a.m. feedings, and stretch marks. Talk about your ultimate cock block."

"Abby!"

"Oh, don't be a prude," the fifteen year old returned, shrugging off her older friend's indignant protests. "You can't tell me that you haven't thought about this on your own, and, when you're married to a hot piece of ass like you've snagged for yourself, these are valid concerns."

"Not in a relationship where both people are adults who love each other. In fact," the nurse pointed out cheekily. "It's common knowledge that some men are even more turned on by seeing their wives full and pregnant with their child than they are when their wives are at 

their thinnest and most attractive."

"Kinky."

"And, besides," the blonde continued as if she had not been interrupted. "When I brought up the downside to the idea of Johnny becoming a father, I wasn't talking about sex; I was talking about the fact that he'll be coming into the role with a lot of emotional baggage." Finding herself getting emotional despite her best efforts, Nadine attempted to stave off the tears rapidly filling her aquamarine eyes. Sniffling and lifting trembling fingers to wipe the moisture away, she explained. "I have no doubt that he'll be an amazing father – the best, but, at the same time, the idea of fatherhood scares him."

"Alright," the cancer patient acknowledged, albeit slightly disbelievingly. "I have to tell you, though, from everything that you've told me about your husband, it's kind of difficult for me to picture him afraid of anything."

"Oh, everyone fears something, Abby," the medical professional returned confidently. "Some people are just better at hiding their fears than others, but Johnny's no different. He's scared of bringing an innocent life into the world he's grown up in. He's scared of the idea of his own child having to one day inherit the business he himself doesn't want. He's scared of failing his child, of passing down his father's insanity, of the violence his role in any kid's life will bring to the child. And, most of all, he's afraid that he simply won't be good enough, no matter how much and how often I reassure him otherwise."

Completely serious, the teenager remarked, "wow, that's pretty heavy. Way to bring down the mood there, Nurse Nadine."

"I just… No matter what I do," she changed topics, changing her mind and attempting to explain her remarks in another fashion, "you see to constantly look at my life as though it was one big fairytale, but it's not, and I just… I need you to realize that, no matter what the circumstances are, nothing's ever perfect."

"I'm dying," her younger friend pointed out. "So, do you really need me to recognize the flaws in your relationship with your husband, or do you just need to remind yourself of their existence?"

Without commenting, the pediatrics specialist changed the topic - again, refusing to meet the fifteen year old's perceptive gaze, for, sometimes, even when she didn't want to face the facts, even when she had already admitted them to herself, it was better to deny what she knew to be true. "Anyway, so you wanted some violence, huh? Well…"

**3.**

She refused to get out of the car until he came around to open her door for her, not because she insisted upon his chivalrous ways but simply because she didn't want to go inside of the looming mansion before them, and it wasn't until he practically lifted her out of 

the sports car that she let go of the door's armrest. She really was there, and she was really going to have to spend Thanksgiving with her husband's small yet unstable family, and all Nadine really wanted to do was run as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

"Do we really have to do this?"

"It's Thanksgiving," he reminded her, though she was well aware of the date mocking her on the calendar. "And you're not supposed to spend holidays alone, locked up in your apartment all day long watching television."

"But we had other invitations," the petite nurse pointed petulantly. "We did not have to come _here_."

Looping their arms together, Johnny dragged her towards the front door of the massive Zacchara compound. "And where else did you want to go?"

"Elizabeth and Jason invited us over…"

"There is no way I'd set foot within hundred yards of Harborview Towers today," the mob heir informed her, his tone brokering absolutely no room for argument. "You know that Elizabeth is too nice not to invite over every single person in their lives, even if she doesn't particularly like them, so that means Carly and Jax, Kate and Sonny, The Quartermaines, or, at least, what's left of them, all the guards and various employees that work for Corinthos and Morgan, and even her coworkers from the hospital all have free reign of the place today. Our luck, we'd get trapped on an elevator with half of them, and I'm sorry but, if my family is crazy, Jason's best friends are certifiable, and I'd rather eat my turkey instead of using it as a weapon to shut Carly Jacks up."

Mumbling grumpily, she admitted, "point taken."

"And besides," he added, all in an attempt, she could tell, to reassure her, "we won't have to be here long. We'll eat dinner, my father and Claudia will get into yet another fight with one another, and we'll be able to slip away and go home with enough leftovers to feed an army. Cook's always liked me the best, so she'll make sure we get the all white meat, too. And the wishbone."

"Back up there, please," Nadine insisted. "It's not the food I'm worried about. I'm more concerned with the idea of your sister and your father arguing, but you just glossed over that with a few words and a careless shrug."

"So what," he did it again – shrugging. "It's what they always do. I'd be more apprehensive if they suddenly started to get along." Dragging her several more feet towards the imposing entrance, the man she loved continued. "She'll rant and rave about how he never loved her and shipped her off to Italy when she was sixteen just like he got rid of her mother, and he'll accuse her of being a slut. It's all rather harmless, really."

"Tell me again. How exactly did your new family attorney manage to secure Anthony's day pass from the mental institution? The guy murdered his own lawyer, a man who had worked for him for more than three decades, loyally or not, in cold blood in front of a room full of witnesses, and they're treating his imprisonment as if it were an extended stay at a spa."

"It's just one of the many perks of being a Zacchara. Look at it this way," her husband suggested, turning them both around so that they were standing still and facing each other. "If my old man can get released for an afternoon in order to spend Thanksgiving with his family, then, if I ever get in trouble and have to go to jail, they'll probably allow me to come home every weekend."

"That's not funny."

Johnny laughed. "Yeah, it was," he contradicted her. They pivoted around to face the front door, and she took a deep, bracing breath, but, before the future crime boss could even knock, the screaming voices of his own two living relatives could be heard through the thick barrier, offering them a sneak peak at what they would soon be facing. And, just like he had predicted, Claudia and Anthony were arguing about the past, threatening each other heatedly. "Ready or not," he warned her, forgoing the polite custom of announcing their presence, not that anyone inside of the mansion would be able to hear them anyway, and, instead, choosing to just open the door himself, but, before the wide entrance could swing open, Nadine felt herself being pushed to the ground, her husband's body falling to cover her own.

Everything happened in flashes. Instead of the events occurring in slow motion as she had often heard of such moments, it was as if her brain could only accept and comprehend small snippets of the actions surrounding her. First, she saw the car careening up the driveway wildly, the driver maneuvering the vehicle recklessly in order to fire the automatic gun he held out the dark tinted, bullet proof windows of the sedan. Then she realized that there were bullets flying around them, pinging off the bricks of the house and chipping into the unbreakable fortress that was Crimson Pointe. Finally, she felt the man she loved repositioning them so that they were partially hidden behind a wide, stone pillar.

As quickly as the shootout had started, it ended, the assassin, no doubt sent to eliminate the heir to the Zacchara throne, fleeing the scene of the crime as quickly as his expensive, imported luxury car could possibly travel. He didn't stick around to make sure that his target was, indeed, dead, probably in fear of retaliation from the guards that patrolled the remarkably large compound, and Nadine was thankful for that small favor. But she felt the panic setting in belatedly, for Johnny was still unmoving on top of her, and she knew the hired gun's unconsciously accommodating gesture would be futile if the man she loved was dead anyway.

**4.**

After a hectic, lively day at the hospital, she hated going home to an empty apartment, and what made it even worse was the fact that the holidays were rapidly approaching. Christmas would soon be there, and, to prepare for it, she had drug home a tiny tree, no 

bigger than three feet tall, to decorate on her own, but the simple, festive action only proved to make her sadder. She certainly wasn't in the mood to celebrate, but, on the other hand, she was also a slave to tradition. There had been some form of a Christmas tree in her home – be it the house she had shared with her sister and aunt growing up, her college dorm, or even her apartment the year before while living in Port Charles when she had been more alone than any one person had a right to be, and, this year, she was determined would be no different.

Stringing the tiny, while lights through the miniature spruce's branches, she hummed softly to herself, the normally chipper holiday song sounding melancholy and depressed even to her own ears. At the realization, several tears slipped free of her tightly clenched and control lids, falling downward from the natural effects of gravity only to splash and pool out on the collar of her cheerful, red cashmere sweater.

She tried to wipe the telltale signs of moisture away, but, with every swipe of her quivering fingers, more fell, and, soon, she was giving up, tossing aside the tree's decorations and kicking the small, brown box which held the heirlooms she had inherited from her Aunt Rayleen. Hastily, she made her way to the bedroom, leaving the door open behind her in her rush to collapse onto the bed.

Alone.


End file.
